Unexpected Losses
by Jackamiah Meaney
Summary: BtVSHP Early, early Season 3. Willow parents have been in a plane accident, resulting in Willow being orphaned. She's sent to live with an unknown godmother of no blood relation. Can she handle a new family and the loss of everything she loves? COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

(a/n: beginning of season three (as in…like…episode two!). Before Homecoming! Oz and Willow are just beginning to get serious-ish. I am neither Joss [my personal god] nor J.K. Rowling. You figure it out. Yes: say it with me….AU means alternate universe! fan fiction means I get to play with the meaningless lives that are not really mine to control.) () (ß totally Kirby!)

Prologue of Unexpected Losses

Willow sat on the floor, by Xander's bed. Buffy was laying on a pile of pillows, curled around a huge bowl of popcorn, chewing on the Styrofoam-quality, fake-butter saturated, salty goodness. Four open bottles of pop were beside her on Xander's bedside stand. Oz was sitting next to Willow, their fingers entwined. Xander sat behind Willow, playing inattentively with the long red strands of her hair, twisting them around his fingers and braiding them. All four were staring at one of the most crucial devices in their lives with utmost attentiveness.

"Commercial break?!" Willow mock yelled, unable to stop the smile that threatened the corner of her lips. "How dare you!" Buffy threw a handful of popcorn at Willow, and the redhead pouted, knowing that it would be stuck in her hair and she'd have to wash it to repair the oily damage. "Ha! Foolish mortal! You forget, I have my own personal slaves to clean my hair…until Cordelia actually has a day off cheerleading practice."

The rest of the room couldn't help laughing in response. Willow hadn't been in such a good mood since she'd gotten out of her wheelchair. She was finally recuperating. She was finally _happy_, despite the fact that she was dealing with her life. Buffy was dealing with killing her lover, after he'd regained his soul. Oz was dealing with being a werewolf, and Xander was dealing with the guilt he felt for lying to Buffy and Willow. And he was dealing with Cordy. It was a room of coping teenagers.

Willow had been unable to keep the feeling of magic flowing through her out of her mind. She wanted to do it again. She'd had her nose buried in hundreds of book about the craft since she'd been able to get her hands on them. Giles was carefully monitoring her progress, and he was disbelieving and extremely proud of her abilities. She was advancing more quickly than she'd hoped. Levitation was a thing of the past. She especially loved working with charms and potions. There was something about the precision and detail that made the work seem like an art.

She hadn't let go of her school-life either. Already at the top of her class, she was full of academic energy that the Scoobies either despised or desired. She was already tutoring Xander in his Algebra II class, and he was beginning to understand the math. He was still quite adamant about his rejection of letters in mathematics that he's gladly share with anyone who's listen. Cordelia was usually the one stuck in that position, being the girlfriend.

The doorbell rang.

"Ooh! Maybe Cordy!" Xander grinned, rolling over, and nearly on top of a protesting Buffy. "Hmm…I'm not entirely sure if I'm not too comfortable to move, now." He declared, finding himself lying on Buffy's legs. He laughed as she squirmed to free herself. She gave him a threatening glare, and he picked himself up, and stood. "No fair that she can totally kick my--"

"ALEXANDER HARRIS!" Came a sharp shout from downstairs. Xander's mother.

"Not Cordy." Xander muttered to himself, and jumped up, heading downstairs. Willow kissed Oz's cheek and disentangled herself from him. She was used to dealing with Xander's parents when they were in a bad mood. She didn't want him to go alone, so followed him. When they reached the living room, Mrs. Harris yelled out again.

"ALEXANDER! FRONT DOOR! _NOW_!" Xander picked up his pace to a jog and headed to the front door, Willow on his heels. Xander's mother stood in front of the open door, her arms crossed, glaring at her son as he entered the room. "What've you done?"

"Huh?" Came the innocent response, and he looked outside the door only to see a police officer standing there, bored in all outward aspects, fiddling with a notepad that he held, his eyes rolled skyward.

"Alexander Harris?" He questioned, after noticing that he was there. "I was told that there may be a Willow Rosenburg at this residence…"

"I'm Willow." The redhead interjected, peering out the door from behind Xander. "Is something wrong?" She moved to stand in front of Xander, but he stepped up as well, so they were standing side-by-side.

"I'm officer Johnson. I'm afraid I have some bad news. Today, a flight from New York to Los Angelos crashed. There were no survivors. Both Ira and Sheila Rosenburg were on the flight--"

"What?" Willow spoke faintly, backing up a step. Xander wrapped an arm around her shoulder, not only to let her know that he was there, but also to keep her from falling. "My mom and dad--"

"I'm sorry, but yes, both of your parents passed away. Um…do you know your parents' lawyer?" Johnson asked, uncomfortable. He hadn't expected Willow to be as old as she was. He was expecting to deal with a child, someone incapable of the pain he saw shining in the redhead's eyes. She nodded dumbly, backing up another step. "They, of course, are in possession of your parents' will. They will have everything you need to know. Can you contact them or would your prefer if one of us did?"

"I-I can do it…thank you." She closed the door on the Officer, who seemed both put-out and relieved at the new lack of contact between them. Willow backed up another step, and into Xander, who had moved while she spoke to Johnson, having expected her next move. A slight sob escaped her, and she turned into Xander's chest, unable to stop her tears.

Without even a moment's thought, he picked her up, and carried her upstairs. Buffy and Oz both jerked up at the sight of their crying best friend. Xander didn't speak, but placed her on the bed where he'd been lying before. He tried to pull away from her, to try to make her more comfortable, but she wouldn't let go of his sweater. Sharing a worried look with Buffy, he wrapped his arms around her and tried soothing her, rubbing her back.

"What's happened?" Buffy asked in a small voice. Xander shook his head silently, not wanting to upset Willow further. Willow nodded into his chest, telling him to tell them, but still she sobbed.

"Her parents were in a plane accident. Neither one made it." He still held onto Willow in support, trying to calm her down a little more. Buffy held on to the two of them, forming a group hug. Oz felt slightly out of place, but at a nod from both Buffy and Xander, he joined in, and kissed her temple.

"Wills, I'm so sorry."

The redhead pulled away from Xander. "What am I gonna do now? What if I'm sent away? What if I have to move and I'll never see you guys again?! What if they didn't leave me anything! What if I can stay but can't afford to stay? What if they shove me in an orphanage? What if--" Oz abruptly shut her up with a chaste kiss.

"Don't worry about it, Willow. We'll burn that bridge when we come to it." He answered, and kissed her brow. "I hate to, but I've got to go, sweetie. Call me before you go to the lawyer's okay. I'll come if you want." He cupped her cheek with his hand, and paused a moment before he turned and left. The others, of course, understood why he left. It always took him almost the entire day to prepare for the coming full moon. He was on his way to the library, of course, to make sure that everything was set for him. Giles was there to help him.

"Willow, panicking isn't going to help anything. Bright and early tomorrow we'll go get everything straightened out, okay? We won't let you go anywhere, we need our Willow." Buffy put in. "Even if I have to be a little," she paused to crack all of her knuckles with her other fist, "threatening."

"Thanks Buffy."

"Of course, Wills, I love you. Don't want you anywhere but here."

Xander and Willow headed towards "Jenkins and Smith", her parents' lawyer's business office. Buffy and Oz had both volunteered to accompany them, but Willow refused both of them at the last minute. She felt more comfortable with just Xander, even though Buffy's "threatening" may have come in handy. She knew that, in truth, there was nothing that Buffy could do to influence these lawyers. Not much, anyway.

She hadn't set up an appointment, but neither did officer Johnson say that she needed one. As she walked into the nearly too-clean office a secretary glared up at her. She had the phone pressed to her ear with a well-manicured hand. She seemed to be trying to smooth some ruffled feathers. It did not seem to be working. As soon as she hung up the phone it rang again.

Sighing resignedly, she picked it up again, "Jenkins and Smith, how may I help you?"

Willow nervously approached the front desk. The secretary frowned up at her, and motioned for her to pick up a prepared clipboard that lay on the counter. Willow frowned and did so. She headed back to take a seat in the half-full waiting room. She took a pencil from the mini-backpack that she kept on her person. Xander took his accustomed seat next to her and looked over her shoulder at the paper. He couldn't help but blanch at the sheer number of blank lines that he was sure that Willow would have to fill in.

Most of them didn't seem to apply to her in any case, but both of them had a vague feeling that the secretary wouldn't appreciate being handing a half-blank paper. She seemed to be rightfully stressed, already answering the third phone call she'd received since they walked into the office. Xander took the clipboard from Willow, and headed up to the woman, much to both of their protests.

"Can I help you, sir?" She questioned irritably, holding a hand over the receiver of the phone, looking at them over a fashionable pair of glasses.

"Please, Miss. You see, my bestest friend, Willow Rosenburg here, needs to see Mr. Jenkins. He's her parent's attorney." Xander answered, ignoring the woman's glare at the word "bestest".

"Where, sir," She asked in a terribly mocking tone, "are your _bestest _friend's parents themselves." She didn't seem to notice Willow's composure crumple at those harsh words. Xander did, though, and wrapped an arm around his long-time best friend.

"That's why we're here. They've passed on, and we need to see Mr. Jenkins about a will. That wasn't an option on your fancy clipboard." Xander was angry at the woman. She obviously didn't need to be in such a stressful position. She didn't have the people skills for it. But the sharpness in her eyes did soften at his words.

"Of course, sweetie." She spoke, carefully avoiding looking or speaking to Xander. "Come with me, dear." When she headed off to be followed by both kids, she narrowed her eyes at the boy. "I don't recall inviting you, sir."

"He has to come!" Willow answered, a touch panicky thinking that she would have to face the lawyer on her own. Xander had become a security blanket in this. Again, the secretary seemed to soften. Willow didn't seem to notice the death grip in which she held Xander's hand. They were led to another office. The woman knocked on the door softly, and opened it just enough to stick her head in. A few seconds later, she opened the door fully, and waved the pair in.

With knots in her stomach, Willow took the seat the pinstriped man motioned to. Xander again sat next to her, still holding her hand in her apparent fear. "Miss Rosenburg, I am very sorry about your loss. I also commend you for being able to come in as abruptly as you have. I'm sure that you wish for us to be about this business as quickly as possible. Luckily for us, your parents were very direct with their instructions. As constantly as they traveled, they were aware that something like this was always a possibility.

"There is only one problem right now. That's your friend. It's against policy to have a non-family member in the office when divulging any personal information about any of our clients." He motioned vaguely in Xander's direction.

"He can't leave! Please, just let him stay. This is Alexander Harris, sir, he's my best friend. I-I need him here for this…" Willow began, obviously starting her way into a babble-fest. Jenkins seemed to recognize the beginning of a rant for what it was, and he finally nodded after staring at the pair for some time, not hearing anything that Willow was saying.

"Very well Miss Rosenburg. At any time, if you feel that any information here become too personal, you may ask me to stop. We will see Mr. Harris out and continue." Jenkins rubbed the top of his balding head almost nervously. Xander was left to wonder what it was about him exactly that seemed to make every adult in the known universe distrust him. First the secretary, and now the lawyer-guy was treating him like he had a gun to Willow's head and was forcing her to take him along with her.

"Alright, then." Jenkins took a seat on the other side of the desk. He was sitting slightly in-between the pair (obviously opposite them). He opened a drawer and withdrew a file. Meeting eyes once more with Willow, he opened it, and shuffled through the papers until he was more than halfway through the stack of legalities. "The last Will and Testament of Ira and Sheila Rosenburg. Last updated on July 19th of 2001." The date was only a pair of months before.

"Ms. Rosenburg, would you simply prefer to read the document, or would you like to me to translate into layman's terms for you?" Jenkins finally asked, kindly, seeing how she almost burst into tears at the mention of her parents. She nodded, but to which Jenkins had no idea. Xander held up two fingers indicating the second option, and the older man nodded in return. "Very well. To have it simply put, Sheila had a very specific destination for you. She wishes you to be moved in with your godmother, one Mrs. Petunia Dursley. She is a native of England. She lives in a town called Surrey."

Willow looked blandly back at him. She didn't even know that she had a godmother. She'd be moved into land of the Giles, as she knew at some point Xander would note. "Mr. Jenkins…I'm almost eighteen. Would it be possible for me to continue living here until I'm a legal adult?" She knew the hope was faint, but because her parents were gone so often, it was still a hope. She knew better than to cling to it as if there was no other, but she couldn't control her mind.

"I'm very sorry, Ms. Rosenburg, but your mother was very firm in your relocation. She insisted that were you still in any type of school, you should be moved to Surry with this Mrs. Dursley. Of course, if you were eighteen we could do nothing but firmly suggest. It would be your choice then. But I'm afraid that seeing you are not a legal adult, there is no other choice for you until that time."

"How long?" She demanded then, bitterly, surprising even Xander with her abrupt change of mood. "How long 'til I'm shipped out?"

"You have, um, three days, Ms. Rosenburg."


	2. Chapter 1

(a/n: This chapter is a re-post, and you can ignore my notes from the next chapter. I am fixing the mistake regarding the howler. I apologize and thank every one of you for bringing this to my attention.)

Chapter 1 of Unexpected Losses

It was absurdly easy to pack up her life in three measly days. The thought, however true, was extremely unsettling for Willow. It had helped that Buffy, Xander, and Oz were just as angry as she was about her sudden departure. Buffy had insisted on the pair taking a shopping trip. Buying things was Buffy's main alleviation of depression. She'd bought Willow nearly an entirely new wardrobe, insisting that Willow would want more clothes. The style was almost purely Willow, but with enough Buffy mixed in that the redhead was sure to be confused by her sheer number of accessories.

These clothes she packed straight from the bag. She wasn't able to pack everything she owned. Considering the fact that the last of her four suitcases was filled only with her magic-working supplies and frameless photos, it was a miracle she didn't need more bags.

Oz and Willow had spend what Willow declared as "day two" together. His last wolf-day had been "day one" (shopping and packing day) and so there was no reason to cut their time short. Oz had spent hours just playing idly for her on his guitar, making up songs as he went. At Willow's insisted cheerleading, he attempted an E-flat diminished ninth. Granted, he'd failed miserably, but Willow got a vague idea on what it was and applauded anyway. As the day wore on, they both became slightly uncomfortable. Nighttime fully in sway, Oz drove Willow back to her house where Xander was staying. With a kiss goodbye, he turned away, pausing slightly before he started his van and headed towards Devon's where he was staying.

Xander had claimed "day three," insisting on spending what would be Willow's last day in Sunnydale with her. He woke her at midnight, jumping onto her bed, causing her to wake suddenly, awareness flooding into her.

"C'mon, Will. It's day three! Can't waste time." He grinned, and sat at the foot of her bed, still bouncing. Willow, now fully awake and completely unable to fall back asleep sat up, raking her fingers through her hair. She shot him a dark glare, but her anger was softened by sadness. Xander opened his arms in a silent offering, and she hugged him in turn, desperate not to cry anymore. She'd done enough of that already.

"Can it be day one again?" She answered. "I don't want to go tomorrow."

"I don't want you to either, Will, but according to lawyer-guy we don't have much of a choice." He answered, loosening his hold on her, but not moving away. "Did he tell you anything else about this Petunia-lady?"

"A little bit." Willow admitted, turning to turn on a lamp and meeting his eyes. "I did a little research, too." She added, taking her laptop from her dresser rubbing the top of it fondly. Xander grinned at her confession of "research," which would be more commonly referred to as "hacking." She tried and failed to suppress an eye roll at his apparent source of humor in her research. "She's a housewife. Her husband owns a drilling company of some sort Gunnings or Grunnings.. They have a son, he's about my age. Name of Dudley Dursley."

Xander couldn't contain a snort of laughter at that. "Sputtering" may have been a better choice of a word. It took more than a minute before he could breathe again, and even Willow had good humor shining in her eyes. "Shh!" She finally managed, a faint giggle in her shushing. Xander finally reigned control over himself, and coaxed a "go on" look. "There's another boy living there, according to their papers. He's about my age, as well. His name is Harry. Harry Potter. He goes to some kind of boarding school. He's Petunia's nephew."

"So…are you cousins?" Xander asked curiously. He'd met many of Willow's relatives over the years, but he didn't remember anyone from England, nor with those names.

"That's what I assumed, too, and that maybe my mother and she had some sort of falling out, but no." Willow answered with a half-shrug. "There's no blood relationship between us. I've done some research to see if my mom's been in Surrey lately, and she's been there several times in the past few years. Usually she stopped by in-between her conferences.

"I guess that they're just close friends. I've never met her, or at least I don't remember. I suppose that I did when I was a baby. I haven't looked into it, but I think she'd have to be there to legally become my godmother."

"I think that you've done quite enough research for the past little while. So, you are planning on moving back, right?" Xander answered, surprising Willow with his choice of topic. Being Xander, he wasn't always one to look towards the future. His choice of interest usually ran with the moment. "I mean, after you turn eighteen, you want to come back home, right?"

Willow paused. She hadn't really been thinking of what she would do when she had a choice. She'd been too busy dreading the change to come. "I…I guess so. I honestly hadn't considered it. I don't want to go…I assume that given the chance I'd come home. But where would I go?" She seemed to be asking herself just as much as she was Xander. "I can't afford to keep making payments on the house, seeing as how I'm jobless and how no one's going to be living there. I suppose if I don't use much of my money I'll be able to rent an apartment for a little while at least…"

"We'll be able to work something out, Will. We've always been able to do it before. You can't stay away for good, though. Hey! Maybe I'll be able to come and visit you!" Xander seemed to be energized by the thought. "It'd be cool to go visit the land of the Giles! And hey! Tweed!"

Willow grinned at the thought of hundreds upon thousands of Gileses wandering about in place of everyone who actually lived there. All of them wearing tweed and polishing their glasses at random intervals and making odd clucking noises in the back of their throats. Suddenly, she was overcome with a case of the giggles, and was unable to think of anything that didn't make it worse.

Within a few minutes, tears of laughter slid down her cheeks, and the was holding onto Xander like a lifeline, unable to stay upright without the assistance. Xander just tried to suppress laughter of his own at the look on Willow's face. He wasn't sure exactly about what she was laughing so hard about, but for some reason Willow's happiness was contagious.

"So, what do you want to do today, Cap'n?" He asked her, with a mock salute, when they'd calmed.

"My last day in Sunnydale…" Willow muttered. "I don't know. We should Bronze it, tonight. And I guess both mini-golf and tennis are out of the question." She offered a fond smile at the inside joke the trio had shared. "I think sleep would be nice, too, but I'm assuming that you're not going to let me have much of that, are you?"

"Of course not! Sleep is for the weak! We should stop by the Espresso Pump, too. I don't know what else." Xander admitted, shrugging slightly. "I still can't believe that you're going away. What am I gonna do without you here? Who's gonna tutor me?!" He was joking, but Willow shrugged slightly. "Thank god for e-mail. It's not like we won't be talking to one another every day or anything, right?"

"I can't do this, Xander. I can't leave Sunnydale. It's all I know." Willow whispered, and was surprised when Xander picked her up and pulled her onto his lap, hugging her tightly.

"Yes, you can, Will. If anyone on the planet can just up and leave and be okay, it's you." He replied firmly, with a belief that Willow didn't know he possessed. "You're gonna board that plane, watch the movie, eat the peanuts, and be annoyed by they overly-happy flight attendants. You're gonna go and live in Surry with your godmother and other people. They're not gonna believe that you're American, 'cause you're so smart.

"You'll go to school and beat event their smartest kids. You'll wow 'em all, and I'm gonna sit here knowing that you were gonna succeed all along. And you know what, Will? You're gonna do good. You'll come back with a Giles accent and nothing will have changed. I'm still going to be the mega-stud that I am now, I'll probably still be stuck with Cordy. Oz'll still be trying to play more than three cords and still be in a band and wolfing out once a month. Buffy will still kill lots of things, and Giles is still going to like books more than computers."

"That was a lovely speech." Came a new voice, cold and ruthless. One that neither had heard before. Xander slid Willow off of his lap and stood protectively in front of her in a single smooth movement. "And I really am quite sorry to interrupt. So, if you'd please get out of my way…" The stranger was garbed in robes the likes of which neither Willow nor Xander had seen before.

He wore a black mask that had horizontal slits which black eyes peered from. Angry, black eyes.

Xander, of course, didn't move. This seemed to anger the stranger again. "Get out of the way, _boy_." The voice beneath the mask was not muffled, and he drew what appeared to be a stick in his defense. Had the situation not been so frightening, Xander would have laughed at the piece of dark wood.

"Really don't see that happening." He answered instead, suddenly wishing he wasn't still wearing his pajamas, he felt slightly defenseless in the striped long-pant and -sleeved ensemble. Shoeless, too, so though running was a possibility, it would be harder. Especially noting as how the door was blocked, leaving jumping off the balcony was their only other choice.

"_Stupefy_." He muttered. Xander ducked the blur of blue light that passed exactly where his chest had been, leaving a black burnt spot on Willow's previously unmarred wall.

Xander looked at the wall for several moments, slightly paler than he'd been a moment before. Willow caught his eye, and shifted them towards her bedside dresser. Xander, moving faster than he ever had before in his life, opened the drawer, and pulled out a stake.

It must've been there at Buffy's insistence, but Xander was glad for it. He picked it up, and with a slightly maniacal grin, he rushed at the stranger with speed he didn't know he possessed., managing to bury the wood a good three inches into his chest.

"Bloody _hell_." The man gasped deeply, before disappearing with a pop.

"So…the attacker wanted you, Willow?" Giles asked, rubbing his glasses, apparently puzzled.

"We think so. He wanted Xander to move, and he was standing in front of me. It's just an assumption. I don't have much in the way of valuables in my room. He'd have been better off downstairs, that's where most everything is." Willow answered, feeling comforted with Oz's arm draped over her shoulders and Buffy sitting on her other side.

"I'm just glad you kept the stake in your room." Buffy answered with a slight smile. "Can't believe Xan staked someone, though."

"Me neither, but if it was him or Will, there's not much of a competition, is there? I don't think I killed him or anything, but I was just trying to get him away, you know? If he was a vamp, though, I think he'd be dust. I think he was from England, though. He had the accent, and apparently the slang." Xander replied, sitting on the steps in front of the other three teens and next to Cordelia.

The brunette finally admitted that she was 'probably' going to miss Willow, and had a comforting hand on the redhead's knee. Xander smiled brightly at her at her apparent comforting of his best friend. Somehow, Cordelia felt a little bit rewarded for her act. "Is that so?" Giles asked, interested in the new twist.

"He definitely was of the 'bloody hell' variety." Willow answered, wrapping her arms around herself, as if she was cold. "And he wore this spooky mask thing. Very creepy."

"And what was that weird word he said. He had a stick--"

"Magic wand." Willow interjected. "And he said…I'm sorry, but I think it was 'Stupid-fy.'" She tried not to giggle. "My wall is completely ruined. A blue light came out of his wand and it hit the wall. Looks more like a fireball hit it, you know? With the burn marks, n' stuff."

"Odd," Giles commented. "Very odd. Willow, do you think it might have been '_Stupefy_?' Giles questioned.

"That sounds about right." She answered. "Do you know what it means?"

"It's a spell." He answered, and took a seat at the head of the table closest to the stairs. "But I don't understand why a wizard would want to attack you, Willow."

"What kind of spell? And what kind of magic uses wands?" Willow questioned. "A wizard? Is that warlock? I've never heard of anything like that outside of stories. And what, exactly, does 'stupefy' do?"

"You must understand, Willow, you are a practicing Wiccan, but the magic you use is not the only kind known to man. The magic you use is powers imbued to you from the earth itself. The power you hold connects you to the planet. The warlock is a male Wicca-practitioner. There is another type of magic. This other magic is actually from the persons themselves.

"There is a hidden world of people with this type of magic. These are called witches and wizards. They have their own schools, governments, and morals and values. They generally, though, avoid Hellmouths, especially active ones. Their governments do not hold sway here. I don't have any connections with the American Ministry, but I have met of some of the England officials. The Ministries and the Council do not correspond, though." Giles explained, sharing a significant look with Buffy.

"Why didn't you tell us about anything like this before?" Willow was the one to ask, surprisingly, and not Buffy. "And wouldn't having only access to the power within themselves weaken them considerably? How much power can one control? And why don't the Council and these Ministries work together? Couldn't that help the Slayer…not that you need it Buffy."

"Well, to tackle the easy question, the Ministry and the Council do not collaborate because the Slayer is, by definition, a Muggle. Or non-magic bearer. They say it is not their business." Giles answered. "And Willow, though they can only channel the power in themselves, they're generally stronger than Wiccans."

"Why?" Willow pressed.

"Because practitioners of Wicca aren't usually capable of handling the energies of the earth. The power will usually consume them before they are able to manage it." Giles answered. "That's why I've been so carefully monitoring your progress."

"You think I can't handle it?" Willow asked, an almost hurt look flashing in her eyes. "I can't keep control?"

"Actually, that is quite the opposite of what I think." Giles spoke with a sharp edge on his voice. Willow drew back, feeling slightly ashamed at her outburst. "Of the Wiccans I've met, you are among the strongest. You've had no trouble. There is yet to be spell you haven't managed, after a fashion. And you have not lost an edge of your restraint. But it is usually the most powerful, the ones with the most attachment to the magic, that loses their ability to control it. I am not willing to risk your safety for it. If you were to lose your--"

He stopped speaking mid-sentence, obviously having been struck by a thought. "Infusing a soul into a vampire is magic unlike that seen on this planet for hundreds of years. There has not been anything like it. That explains it."

"Explains what, G-man?" Xander spoke, with only a trace of his usual light mood.

"Don't call me that." Giles answered, obviously completely distracted. "I know why that wizard was after Willow. Someone must have felt it. The magic that Willow possessed when she gave Angel his soul is unlike anything that anyone on this planet had ever seen. It involved an unbelievable degree of power. It could only have been the earth's energies. Willow, you of all people would recognize the _feel_ of your magic, for lack of better word…

"Someone must want control of that power. Imagine, Willow, if you lost yourself in that magic. You, of course, could still control it, but you wouldn't still be Willow. No judgment of right and wrong. No morals to speak of. Given enough training and reason…you could cause irreversible damage. Whoever it was that felt your power obviously thought of that and wants to use that power for some aim.

"Gathering their approach to you, it wasn't something very honorable." During this entire speech, Giles seemed to be thinking to himself more than speaking to the Scoobies, who not only recognized this, but took it upon themselves to start a small discussion amongst themselves. "It is for the best, I'd wager, that Willow is leaving so quickly. There's probably not much of a chance that they'll be able to track her there."

"You think it's _good_ that Willow is going away when some guy is chasing her? Sure, she won't be easy to find, but I won't be able to protect her there." Buffy asked, surprised. "Sure, another country and stuff, but who's to say that this wizard-guy wasn't from the Ministry over there? It could be easier to find her there!"

"Unfortunately, that is a risk. But I'm almost positive that whoever paid Willow that visit wasn't from the Ministry. The years I had with contact to them didn't give me the lowest opinion of them, but the new Minister is quite overly pompous. I fear, that if it were the ministry, they would not have attacked you, but arrested you instead." Giles answered. "If the Ministry finds that someone is after Willow, they may just try to protect her."

"Try?" Buffy questioned, in turn. "I don't want them to _try_ to protect her. They will or I will." Buffy crossed her arms, a dangerous look flashing in her eyes.

"Certainly I'll try to talk to them. I'm not sure whether or not my call will matter, but I will try."

"You're the Slayer's Watcher. I'm sure that you hold some kind of influence. I mean, at least you know these people. Not all the watchers can say that, can they?" Buffy answered. His answer shocked her.

"That won't matter, Buffy. If anything, my opinion will be worth less than any other watcher. They consider me the worst of the lot, because I also am a wizard." Giles confessed. "When I was eleven I was accepted into a school called Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was expelled during my seventh year because of a group of my friends and myself called upon and raised Eyghon. While Rayne's wand was snapped, the headmaster of the school simply confiscated my own. After I graduated the watcher's school and gained a significantly different opinion of the world, he returned it to me. I have not used it since."

"So, you can use this magic?" Willow asked. "Can you teach me?"

"No, this magic can only be used by those born with it. And even if I could, I can't. You still have to leave tomorrow morning. There is still nothing we can do about that. While I don't like the thought of you unprotected, I still have no legal powers to keep you here."

Cordelia, unexpectedly, was the one to sum up the entire affair for the group. "Well, crap!"

Meanwhile, half-way around the world, Petunia Dursley was sitting in her spotless kitchen, holding a cup of tea in shaking hands, and trying not to cry. She'd just received a phone call informing her that her best friend had died. She and Sheila Rosenburg had been friends since they were children. Maids-of-honor at each others weddings. Godmothers of each other's children. They were extremely close. And now Petunia Dursley was alone again.

Though she wasn't fond of her sister, it had still been a blow when she'd been killed. Having no choice in raising her sister's son made her bitter. And now she'd be bestowed with yet another child. This one not even a year older than her own Dudley. A seventeen-year-old girl. Willow. Vernon was not going to like that. And worst of all, though she'd never tell the child, was that she was arriving the next day. Petunia was unsure on what to do.

She would, of course, be given the second bedroom, but where Harry would be placed, she couldn't tell. She knew Vernon was too frightened to keep him in the cupboard again, but there was no way she'd let the little monster stay with her best friend's child. No telling what he'd do! But nor did she want him with her only son. He was only in his sixth year at Hogwarts, and so she knew that he would still have another year.

He had to stay at the Dursley's residence until he graduated. Petunia understood that. Not only would the neighbors talk, not that they didn't anyway, but the Howler she'd received when Harry was fifteen. She knew the voice. It was from that man, the one who'd dropped her nephew on her doorstep. A letter explaining that he was safer with them, somehow. Why this was the safest place for him, she couldn't understand. Vernon certainly wouldn't even bother trying to keep the boy protected, and what could any of them do against magic? If only they'd keep the brat at the school all the time. It was obviously safe enough there.

Petunia took a sip of her tea and visibly calmed. Things were in an uproar, but there were things to do. She had to make the second bedroom hospitable, and the house could do with a good scrubbing. She needed to begin cooking dinner. Vernon's favorite tonight. She had yet to inform him that on the next day…they were going to be graced with a _third_ child.

Petunia had a headache.

(a/n: that's all for today. Yay I updated! Hope you liked it. We get to see Harry in the next chapter, and he receives some bad news from home! Willow meets the Dursleys and more stuff happens! R&R!)


	3. Chapter 2

(a/n: Per usual, I thank each and every one of you for your reviews.

(a/n 2: I will use my own ideas and understanding of the original works. Occasionally, I will twist a fact to suit me, or in my own, sneaky, underhanded way fashion the truth to work with my story. If there is an extraordinary problem with anything I write, please, _please_ e-mail me and tell me! I will gladly take any advice you have for me.

(a/n 3: If you are still annoyed by something that may turn up occasionally in my story, by all means e-mail me ( jinxiemeyersyahoo.com ) and tell me so. I'll gladly explain myself. I will indeed even argue my point about it! (believe me, it's fun to do). Thanks again, and enjoy the story.

a/n 4: I have corrected the mistake involving the howler, and I apologize for it. Wow…someone actually got me to apologize. Pixie of Chaos….should you ever read this…don't have a heart attack. I'm wrong sometimes…unbelievably, sometimes I even go so far as to admit it. I'll show you where I went wrong, if you want. It started when I didn't read all of book five again before I started writing this. I hate being wrong. Bloody sucks!)

Chapter 2 of Unexpected Losses

"You ready, Wills?" Xander finally asked, holding two of Willow's four suitcases. Willow had a duffle bag hanging from her shoulder, and she held the strap in front of her with both hands. Oz insisted on taking her other two suitcases. Willow sent Xander a silent 'what-are-you-crazy?' looks, and he grinned back, understanding her answer. "I don't think the plane's going to wait for you."

"When is it leaving?" Buffy interrupted, speaking of the plane, obviously.

"In another hour." Willow answered, shrugging her bag farther up her shoulder. "You guys don't have to stay if you don't want to, I assume it's going to get really boring, just waiting."

"Of course we're staying," Buffy answered before anyone else got a chance to interrupt. "I mean, it's only another hour, and it's less boring if we're all together. Have anything to do?" Xander, with a wicked grin, pulled out a deck of cards. After reaching Willow's assigned gate and turning in her luggage, they began a game.

An hour later found all five sitting in a circle, exchanging dark looks with one another. All five held hands of cards turned in towards themselves. Willow was the first to speak, and turned to Oz. "Got any threes?" She questioned, grinning in victory when he handed her two cards. "Yay-ness!" She announced, and added the four cards to her rather impressive pile. "Cordy! Any queens?"

"Go fish." The brunette answered after scanning her cards. "Xander, sixes?" She questioned, and was rewarded with one card. She added four cards to her own pile. "I hate this game." She informed them brightly. "Buffy, any kings?"

Buffy sighed, and handed Cordelia her remaining cards. "I'm out."

"_Flight 1712 boarding. Last call for Flight 1712._" The intercom announced. The group of five all froze. The hour had seemed like minutes. Their last hour with Willow for who knew how long.

Cordelia hugged her tightly, and winked. "Don't forget a thing I've taught you. And stay away from everything ucky!"

Oz kissed her and embraced her. "Call me when you get there, Will. Let me know that everything's okay." He stepped back in line with Cordelia, giving room for Buffy to step up and knock the wind out of Willow in a fierce hug.

"Don't let anything get you, Wills. Don't make me have to come all the way over there to slay something. Good luck with the witch-y stuff. And don't forget, accessorizing isn't always a good thing, and sometimes too little is better than too much!"

Xander was the last one to hug the redhead, shielding the tears in his eyes with her hair when he hugged her. "Don't let any bad guys with sticks get too close. Keep your cool. Study hard. All the good stuff. Call me the second you get there, and remember to e-mail me at least three times a week. If you don't, I'm coming after you. Love you, Willow."

"I love you, too, Alexander Harris." She answered, feeling her eyes mist up again at the thought of leaving. She hugged every one of them once more, informing each of them (even Cordelia) that she loved them. She turned and headed for the gate entrance, giving them one more wave after she handed her ticket to the woman by the door. She headed on and out of sight.

Surprisingly, Xander still had tears in his eyes, as did Buffy. Oz actually seemed to be feeling an emotion, and Cordy was doing her best to make sure that no one knew that she was sniffling. Willow walked on, out of sight, her usually cheery demeanor lost in her sadness at leaving her family of friends. She'd even miss Cordelia, and that was something in and of itself.

Petunia waited in the airport, sitting alone with a book. Vernon was working still, and now fully aware that when he came home that there'd be another child that wasn't his to care for at his home. He wasn't happy that she'd kept Willow a secret, despite the fact she'd only known two days in advance. Petunia sighed into her book at the thought of her husband. She loved him, but sometimes he could be such a problematic man.

Willow's flight wasn't due for another twenty minutes, but Petunia was well aware of the sporadic time changes at many airports. She didn't want her best friend's daughter to be waiting for perhaps hours because her plane was early. She had settled in at a gate where she noticed that she wasn't alone in her distrust of airports, as many other people were also waiting. She wasn't yet halfway done with the novel, one of her favorites, and so she settled in.

It was another half hour when a tap on her shoulder pulled her from the book. She'd been so submerged, she didn't even notice when the plane had arrived (shockingly enough) on time. A timid-looking redhead had been the one to call her attention. Emerald green eyes met her own, and the girl bit her lip questioningly. "Mrs. Dursley?"

"Willow, darling," Petunia answered, and noticed the girl calm considerably at her answer. "I'm so sorry! I didn't even realize that anyone had arrived. Are you all right, dear? I didn't mean to frighten you by not being here."

"It's all right. That happens to me sometimes, just start reading, and the world is kind of lost to you." Willow answered. "I'm just glad I recognized you. You just seemed like a Mrs. Petunia Dursley."

"Call me Aunt Petunia, dear. I'm so sorry about your mother. She was a fine woman, and a good friend of mine." Petunia answered, feeling terribly guilty that she'd gotten so lost in her story. Who knows how long the girl had been waiting for her. "Let's get your things and head home. My husband should be home later today, and you can meet them. Dudley, my son, will be off school by the time we get home.

"I told him to come home, but he may not be. He's got so many little friends, he's probably going to be off for a few hours after school."

"Of course, and thank you." Willow answered, and the pair headed off towards the luggage retrieval carousel. They were there for another, almost painfully silent, fifteen minutes, when Willow's things arrived. She picked up two of her suitcases, and with an embarrassed look at Mrs. Dursley, realized she needed help in carrying her things. Petunia didn't seem to notice, and picked up her other two bags. For a moment, she seemed a little surprised at the weight of them.

She remembered then that Willow was not coming to visit. She'd left her life behind in California, and was moving everything she owned and could take with her to Surrey, England. Petunia paused at her realization. She'd lost her parents and her old life in a short span of time, and managed to still keep her life in a form of control. Petunia felt sorry for the girl who didn't seem to feel badly for herself.

"Yes, dear, come along."

Harry Potter exchanged a significant look with Ron at breakfast. He'd just received mail from an owl he didn't recognize. He didn't open the letter yet, but he also didn't recognize the handwriting on the outside of the letter. He pocketed it, and picked at his breakfast until Ron finished eating. Hermione was off in the library. Ever since the beginning of the year, she had barely stopped studying.

Their newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a woman named Caitriona Kehoe, who was an Auror who opposed the ministry in its stand against Dumbledore. Instead of, as some others did, acting as a go-between for Dumbledore and the ministry, she left her position to begin teaching. She had been voted the best Defense teacher yet, an equal to Lupin by most of the school. The Gryffindors seemed to disagree with her being that good, but they still all liked her.

Professor Kehoe was their youngest teacher yet, in her mid-twenties. She was a common crush among the male students. She was well-respected for her skill. She had little patience for those of little wit and did not allow for lethargy among her students. Most of her classes were practical lessons, and when her students were disruptive, they were invited to leave. One student had been invited to leave permanently. After serving almost a month's worth of late-night detentions, they were allowed back, with no more chances.

Kehoe had long ash-blonde hair that was always braided. She had dark cerulean blue eyes and a glare that seemed to cut into one's soul. She was short, barely hitting the five three mark, but physically threw one of her more cocky male seventh years across the room, with ease, in one of her demonstrations.

Kehoe was one of the reasons that Hermione studied so much in her sixth year. She had lots of advice for her, including praise for the girl, insisting that she should consider becoming an Auror. Hermione listened to the woman, and with some advice from Kehoe, had herself on a strict study regiment, leaving little time for her boyfriend, Ron, and best friend.

After Ron had finally had his fill, the pair headed on towards their common room so Harry would have the opportunity to look at the letter he'd received. They had twenty minutes until their first class ([coincidentally to my blathering: Defense Against the Dark Arts]), and plenty of time to see what news the letter held. Making way across the common room and sitting in their customary seats by the fire, Harry opened the letter.

"It's not from a wizard." Harry informed Ron, by simply looking at the letter. Ron cocked an eyebrow at the raven-haired boy, who grinned. "Look, Ron, have you ever sent any letter in an envelope like this?" He handed it to the redhead, who was fascinated by the plastic square that read 'Harry Potter' from within.

"But what muggle would sent you mail?" Ron asked, flipping the envelope over, as if there would be a return address. "It's not even sealed!"

"Sure it is, it's glue. Muggles don't use wax." Harry informed his friend, and tore the envelope open, tearing cleanly by sticking his finger under the half-glued back flap and tearing it across. He fished the letter out and opened it. The first line alone told him exactly who sent it. "Bloody hell."

"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked, an edge of panic on his voice.

Harry sighed and began reading it aloud.

"Harry,

"It seems as if this year you must come home for the Christmas break. Uncle Vernon will be picking you up at the train station, so mind him. My goddaughter will be living with us, now, and until the guest bedroom is finished being remodeled, you and she will be sharing a room.

"We will be keeping a close eye on both of you, and for your sake you'd best behave yourself. We will not be putting up with your usual nonsense during this Christmas break. That includes owls. They will not be flying into my home all during break, you can keep your pet with you, but you are not to send letters to your little friends. If we find that you do, she will be in her cage for the rest of your stay.

"Do not send a reply, we'll see you on December 15th."

"It's signed: Aunt Petunia." Harry rolled his eyes. "This is so stupid. And it's probably going to be another Dudley running around. Not to mention that I get to stay in the same room as her."

"Why are they making you come home, that _is_ bloody stupid! You've never gone home for the break before!" Ron shared in Harry's anger. "And why would you _want_ to try anything with her? She's probably horrible."

"Let's go and tell Hermione, she'll want to know. Look at it this way, you guys can finally go home for a Christmas." Harry knew that the reason both stayed was because of him. He was grateful for their thoughtfulness, but now he felt bitter that they had a good place to go and feel welcome, while he had no choice but to go home and suffer through three weeks of the Dursleys, and plus one more.

Ron could hear the bitterness in his best friend's voice, but he didn't know how to react to it. Hermione would know what to say to calm him down, something that had never been one of Ron's strong points. He usually just got himself into more trouble than out of it, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Besides that, he did feel a little guilty. He'd met Harry's family, and they were horrible to him. No kid wanted to be in a place like that for Christmas. And what about presents?! They probably couldn't even send an owl then, and because he and the probably she-Dudley would be sharing a room, he couldn't even go there to get his mail, nor for a bit of peace.

The headed to the library in an uncomfortable silence. Hermione was, of course, there, sitting towards the back of the library. She was less likely to be bothered by the opening and closing of the doors there. There was a half-circle of books piled around her, and she was buried in a tome so large Ron stifled a gulp. It was easily twice as thick as Hogwarts: A History, and two feet along the spine.

"Hermione?" He asked, his voice cracking, still in awe of the book before him. She didn't seem to hear him. Ron, surprisingly, gave Harry a wicked grin and crept up behind her. She was still too absorbed in the book to pay attention. He crept up behind her, in a silent fashion that would've make Fred and George proud. "Hermione." He whispered in a singsong voice, less than an inch from her ear. She made no response.

Gently, he kissed her behind her ear. The brunette jumped and in her surprise dropped her book, which hit the table with a resounding 'bang.' "_Ron_!" She hissed and lightly whacked the back of his head. He flashed her another wicked smile, and she blushed. "You're going to get me in trouble." She added, and marked her place in the huge book.

Ron simply offered a lopsided grin, and she rolled her eyes. "C'mon, we've got some stuff to tell you." Immediately Hermione's playful attitude was replaced with a business-like briskness that had the trio out of the library and heading down the hallway in a matter of seconds.

"Well, what is it?" She questioned, maneuvering around other students easily, heading towards the DADA practical classroom.

"The Dursleys say I have to go home for Christmas." Harry answered, and ran into Hermione from behind when she stopped suddenly at his announcement. "Ow." He muttered, rubbing his nose, which had hit Hermione's head. He was three inches taller than her, giving him just the right height for the offending feature to be squashed. "My nose."

"Stop whining." Hermione said immediately, even as she checked to make sure that it wasn't bleeding, but was rather just very pink from the impact. "You're fine. Now, _what_ did you just say?"

"I got a letter from my aunt Petunia." Harry explained, and rubbed his throbbing nose. "She said that I have to come home for Christmas break this year. Not only that, but when I get home, I have to share a room with her goddaughter."

"But why?" Hermione responded. "They've never wanted you home before. I'd think that with another kid there that they'd want you home even _less _than they usually do…um…no offense of course." She muttered, blushing as she realized what she said. Harry simply shrugged as he opened the door for their DADA classroom and allowed she and Ron to pass in front of him. After all, it was the truth.

"That's what I'd like to know."

"Mr. Potter, if you're quite through?" Professor Kehoe asked, with a small smile adorning her lips.

Harry blushed at the attention called to him, and he nodded swiftly. "Sorry, Professor."

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, if we could just get started, then." She took a seat on her desk, facing her class, who all stood in a half-circle, all facing her attentively. She crossed her legs and leaned back comfortably on her hands, looking most unprofessional. "Today's lesson…sorry kids, pull up a chair, we're starting with a class discussion.

The group began pulling up their chairs from the sides of the classroom and seating themselves as they wanted. Professor Kehoe began again. "Today's lesson: What is a demon?" Hermione's hand was in the air, and Kehoe grinned impishly at her. "Very good Hermione, but the question was rhetorical.

"What is a demon? It is defined as an evil, supernatural being. A devil. An evil spirit. While not entirely wrong, the definition is also not entirely correct. Can anyone tell me how many different types of demons that there are? No. Good. You shouldn't be able to, I haven't taught you that yet. Demon, in a way, is an opinionative word." Kehoe jumped lightly to her feet and began pacing. "Hermione, what do you think a demon is? And listen carefully, Ms. Granger: _not_ tell-me-the-book-definition-of-a-demon…tell me what you think a demon is."

Hermione paused, blushing, because she was indeed about to spout the definition for the word. "I-I suppose someone or something that is inherently evil."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. Do you have an example for me?"

"A-a vampire." The teenage answered hesitantly.

"Excellent, Ms. Granger. Take five points. Does anyone else have any opinion of what a demon is?" Kehoe asked again, glancing over her students, most of whom were mulling over the thought carefully.

"What about banshees?" Seamus Finnegan spoke up, with a shiver to his voice.

"Good. Take another five house points." Kehoe answered.

"Dementors." Ron added in a quiet voice, sparing a glance for Harry, who sat almost rigidly at the word. Kehoe held up her hand, indicating another five points for Gryffindor. She made a little skipping motion towards her desk and took her seat again.

"Voldemort." Harry spoke after a few moments silence. His voice was impressively quiet but because of the silence of the room, he was easily heard. "If that's not a demon, nothing is."

"That will be ten points, Mr. Potter." Professor Kehoe nodded quietly, and seemed to turn her thoughts inward for the moment. "Yes, I agree with you. Voldemort is a demon. As Ms. Granger has pointed out, a being of inherent evil. That is something you will all need to learn in my classroom. Just because something doesn't look like it came from a pit of hell…doesn't mean it's not."

"Except he does." Harry muttered, and though Kehoe heard him, she didn't comment. Instead she merely bit back a laugh and turned again to face the whole of her class. "But for today we will focus on the broader spectrum of demons. Generally, the ones that look more like it. For now, we will be discussing Doppelgangers, Jovocs, and well, these." She waved her wand and a covered case appeared before them. Most of the class had a sudden flashback to one of Lockhart's more memorable classes involving Cornish pixies.

Most of the girls, and admittedly, a few of the guys, in the classroom jumped when she revealed the case to hold a large and frightening olive-green, cat-like creature. "I, unfortunately, was not able to convince our headmaster to let me bring in an adult. This is, of course, just a kitten, barely six weeks old."

"_That_ is a _kitten_?" Ron asked, staring in shock at the almost four-foot-long beast.

"Unfortunately." Kehoe answered, apparently unaware of his slight panic. "This is a Swamplight Lynx. They are carnivores, and if this little baby was able to hunt, we would be on the menu. The main reason that I am not allowed to bring in a full-grown lynx is because I don't think we have much at this school that could contain it. They are extremely powerful, and just about as welcome to eating people as looking at them.

"They usually grow to be about ten feet long, and as the name suggests, they usually live in swampy areas. The coloring of them usually ranges from yellow to the olive-green of this specimen. No one, and I repeat, no one panic. If you think you are unable to handle yourselves, leave now. This may be very young, but then again, so are you. I am going to let it out of its cage, because should you ever come across one, there are certain weaknesses."

A few students twitched, as if to move, but no one did. Kehoe opened one side of the cage. The kitten lynx looked up at Kehoe, as if bored, and it slowly made its way out of the cage. It pawed at Kehoe's cloak, and toppled over as it tried to press against it. Most of the class had to stifle giggles at its clumsiness. "Don't be fooled." Professor Kehoe warned. "They grow more graceful as they age. The kittens are often, for lack of better word, little klutzes and likely to get themselves into trouble.

"One thing in particular to notice, it's paws. Like even household cats, these have retractable claws." Kehoe sat next to the lynx, on the floor, and grabbed its paw. She pressed on the padded bottom, and four three-inch-long, deadly-sharp claws were forced out of the lynx's toes. The lynx seemed to be chewing on her hand to get her to release its paw.

"Professor, you're bleeding…" Hermione said in a faint voice. Kehoe released the animal's paw and glanced down at her hand.

"Well, then. Serves me right." Kehoe nodded to herself. "That's another fun attribute to our new friend. Sharp, sharp teeth. Two inch long canines, and sharp as knives." Kehoe wrapped up her hand with a long bandage from off of her desk. "None of you, of course, are allowed to touch her, she puts up with me, because I can boss her around. Now, being named Swamplights…there is one more trick our friend can show us."

Professor Kehoe firmly shoved a finger in between the big cat's ribs. In a defensive reaction, the cat was hidden in a ball of the brightest light any of the students had ever seen. All of them had to look away. Kehoe, who'd been expecting it had tightly screwed her eyes shut, and even then spots danced in front of her vision for a few minutes. "Now, she'll use that to stun anyone she comes across that seems to want to hurt her. For now, it's purely defense.

"When she grows up, that will be one of her offensives moves. She'll stun people with a flash, and then attack before they can recuperate. "These guys are bloody dangerous, but if, while they are using a light attack you either manage to run or _put them out_, they're not lethal. Now, children. We all know the general spell for putting out our lights."

"_Nox_!" The class chorused back to her.

"_If_ you can managed to use the spell while they're using their own magic, they themselves will be stunned, giving you a chance to build yourself a better defense, finish them off (which is generally frowned upon…they are endangered), or--"

"Run like hell!" Offered several students. This last was greeted with laughter, even by their professor.

"Very good, kids. But this is also very important. _Nox_ is generally a spell used to reverse the affects of a _Lumos _spell. Make sure that you cast the spell correctly. The only difference is the way you move your wand. Mr. Longbottom, please come up here." Kehoe indicated Neville, who walked up to the front of the classroom. "Now…we all know that 'nox' will generally work no matter what you do with your wand. With Miss Kitty over here, you want to…well, copy me."

Slowly, and with a lot of stress on her movements, the professor moved her wand in very deliberate strokes. It vaguely reminded him of their own "swish and flick" but with more swishing and a definite loss of emphasis on the flick. "Very good, Mr. Longbottom. If you would please, I'm going to split the class in half, show your half exactly the movement I have shown you."

"Yes, Professor." Neville answered, a faint confidence in his voice that had never been there before.

"Now…as for Doppelgangers…Mr. Finnegan…pay attention!"

(a/n: that's all for this installment. I don't own Swamplight Lynxes, by the way. They, Jovocs, and many of our demon friends in this story, will be owned by everyone's favorite Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual one and two. That's my disclaimer for them. Sorry! Harry's bad news: he's goin' back to the Dursley's for Christmas! Maybe that's not…like…god-awful news, but still…not of the good. I wasn't sure if we should venture into the classroom, but I fell in love with Caitriona Kehoe, and I wanted to visit her for a little bit. Let me know if you want more classroom scenes or not. Well, then, review please! Hope y'all liked it!)


	4. Chapter 3

a/n: back again! And yay! Update-age. Thank you lovely reviewers...for your...uh...lovely reviews! N Stuff! I wish to again emphasis my gratitude towards everyone who corrected my Howler mistake. Mostly it's because I haven't read the fifth book in its entirety since it came out, and I have the memory of a goldfish. giggles Angel is not back yet, nor has Faith arrived in Sunnydale. These events will take place, but with an absence of the Willow-y nature. No one objected to using more classes in my story, and most of them will be from DADA. I just love my professor Kehoe. Willow will, perhaps sadly, not ever be in the possession of a Swamplight Lynx, but our previous kitty friend may make another cameo.

Note to Pixie of Chaos: much to my extreme embarrassment, it does state that Dumbledore sent the Howler. However, you love me very, very much and we will never speak of this again. And I still think that you should write that Jasmine/Kitty story, because it will make me laugh, and hey! Laughter is of the good! Update soon or I will do something thoroughly unpleasant! Ooh! And...let's never speak of a certain phone call again. We can just pretend that you were visiting J, okay?))

Chapter 3 of Unexpected Losses

Petunia Dursley pulled up into the driveway of number four Privet Drive, and parked the car. Most of the trip Willow had been staring out the window, leaving Petunia to puzzle whether she enjoyed the scenery or was just very depressed. Understandably, she wasn't betting on the former. "Are you hungry, Willow, dear?" She finally asked, when they'd both headed to the trunk to retrieve Willow's belongings.

"A little bit." Willow admitted, and then most embarrassingly, her stomach growled loudly.

"A little bit?" Petunia asked, with a genteel smile. Willow blushed in response and pulled out the second pair of her suitcases. "I'm afraid we're right at the beginning of remodeling the guest room. Until December, you'll have your own room, but then you'll be sharing with Dudley's cousin, who goes to a boarding school."

"That's quite alright, Mrs. Durs--Aunt Petunia." Willow answered with just a touch of discomfort. "I don't really mind. It'll be almost like a really long sleepover just with a guy, well, a guy I don't know, but that's not a problem, 'cause...." Willow paused mid-babble. She had to remember that she wasn't home anymore. Willow-babbles were not to be easily understood in this place. "I mean, it's no trouble."

Petunia seemed relieved at her somewhat more sensible answer. "Harry goes back to school at the beginning of January, though, and your room should be finished by April." She stopped speaking and picked up two of Willow's suitcases with one arm. With some difficulty, she shut the trunk door of her car, took one of the valises from her other arm, and headed into the house.

Willow trailed slightly behind her, quiet again. This was to become her home for the next however-long that she would be there. Petunia went in ahead of her, and left the door open for Willow to follow. She did so, and was profoundly surprised by the sheer cleanness of the home within. It was ridiculously tidy, how a teenager lived here, Willow couldn't guess.

Unless, of course, he was anally neat, something that would bother any American. Luckily, Willow was an organized person, and liked her mess...well, not messy. Xander would go crazy here, it sufficed to say. Expecting, at any moment, for the walls to start sparkling like extraordinarily clean things did in cartoons, Willow quickly followed Petunia towards what would be her new room.

"Now, then, it's a bit late for tea, but we'll make it a light affair, you've still got to save room for dinner. We'll be having my personal favorite. Roasted chicken...do you like chicken, dear?" Petunia asked, then, with an expression that Willow could almost describe as a wince.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I'm just not used to it...Mom and Dad were gone a lot, and I'm not a very good cook. Mostly frozen dinners for me. And sandwiches, you do grow a certain respect for sandwiches over time." Willow smiled grimly to herself at Petunia's look of shock, as if she'd never heard of such a thing.

"Oh, we'll take care of that, dear. I pride myself on my cooking...I do hope you'll like it." Petunia answered, leading Willow to what would be her new bedroom. Petunia opened the new door they'd bought for the room. It wouldn't do to have a cat flap on Willow's door, and no cat, so they'd had to replace it. "This will be your room, Willow. I started dinner before I left to pick you up. I'm just going to check on it. I'll be right back to help you settle in."

"That's okay, Mrs. --Aunt Petunia. I can do it myself. Besides, I'd really rather just have something to keep me busy for a while." Willow answered. Partly, because that was true, but also because she didn't want Petunia to end up unpacking the wrong valise and end up with some of her witch-y possessions. It was safer to just take care of those things by herself. Petunia nodded almost sadly and headed out of her bedroom, pulling the door closed behind her.

Willow surveyed the room quickly. It wasn't extremely big, and most likely the smallest bedroom in the house. There was a wardrobe against one wall, and a closet. A bureau was on the wall opposite the closet, and a bunk-bed was next to the window, pushed to the corner of the room. Both beds were bare, but both also had the supplies to make them at the foot. Willow placed her four suitcases in the middle of the floor, and set about unpacking them one at a time.

The clothes were easy to handle. She took half the dresser and half of the closet, assuming that Harry would also need half when he returned halfway though December. Might as well be used to keeping her clothes in check. She placed the empty valises on the closet floor, beneath her clothes, piling each onto the other neatly.

Kneeling in front of the last suitcase, opening it away from the door, she fondly viewed the possessions she couldn't part with. At the top was a layer of bubble wrap, which Willow unpacked with a grin, knowing that even the protection of her valuables was important (and hey, let's admit it: fun). Easily, she picked up a newspaper-wrapped ambiguous object, which turned out to be a rose quartz focusing stone. It was nearly clear, an important factor in using her magic. The stone was pure, and Willow cupped it in her palm fondly, reveling in the warmth of it.

She placed the stone aside, and reached for another item. Unwrapping the next, it was a small glass cup, used for catching the burned-out portions of incense. The glass had been carved, intricate designed, and Willow gently set it aside, wondering if the Dursleys would allow her to use incense in their overly-clean home. Part of her doubted it.

It took less time than she'd at first expected to unpack. Everything that wouldn't be too obvious was about the room. The rest she carefully put away in the side-table by the bottom bunk, which was the one she chose and made. Her laptop was sitting on her made bed, and Willow sat next to it, wondering what to do with all of her pictures. She didn't want to take over the room with pictures of people that her roommate didn't know, but she didn't want to keep them in her suitcase.

The answer was surprisingly simple, and it was also something that would keep her busy for as long as she wished to be. "Scrapbook." She said aloud. "Wonder if Mrs. Dursley will take me out to buy some supplies."

"Willow, dear!" She heard a faint call from downstairs. "Would you like to eat something now?" Willow didn't want to make a bad impression, but she was hungry, and if Mrs. Dursley was offering, she obviously didn't care that much.

Instead of hollering back, Willow headed downstairs and into the kitchen, which was also extremely clean. "Yes, ma'am." She answered upon catching Petunia's eye. "I was wondering, could you take me to a store sometime soon, please? I've got a lot of pictures from back home. I was thinking of making a scrapbook."

"Of course, dear." Petunia answered, gesturing for her to sit down. Petunia placed a cup of tea in front of Willow, and a small plate of biscuits followed. "Would you like anything else? Or anything for your tea?"

"Sugar, please." Willow answered, eyeing the cookies before her with open interest.

"How many lumps?" Petunia asked, holding a small cup.

Willow didn't answer, at first, thoroughly entertained by the thought of lumps of sugar. "Two." She finally spoke, trying not to seem rude by giggling. "Thank you." She stirred the tea.

"Have you had much tea before, dear?" Petunia asked, sitting down to her own cuppa. "I'm surprised, I didn't think many Americans did."

"I don't think many do." Willow answered, honestly. "Two years ago, my school got a new librarian. Rupert Giles. He's British. I've worked in the Library for him a lot. With things like research and cross-referencing. He kind of got me to like drinking it. I really like Mint tea." Willow admitted. "Have you ever tried it?"

"Oh, yes." Petunia answered. "I like it very much myself. I'll buy us some, and this way I won't be out-voted for it." Petunia laughed softly.

"I don't mean to be any trouble." Willow answered into her tea before taking a sip. Petunia seemed surprised at the thought. She shook her head to negate Willow's words, but before she could speak, the door opened.

Petunia jumped to her feet and headed for the door. Willow guessed that it would be Dudley, home from school. The pair returned to the kitchen. Willow was slightly surprised at the immensity of Dudley. He wasn't extraordinarily tall (though taller than her), but he was very muscular. His blonde hair was short and windswept. If the pictures Willow had briefly spotted in the living room were any clue, this Dudley had lost a lot of weight, and replaced most of it with muscle.

He looked like a living brick wall. Strong, but slightly slow.

"Hi." He greeted her briefly in a deep voice. Within a moment, Petunia lay a tea out for him as well, and he joined the pair at the table.

"Hi." She answered softly, taking a sip of tea, to break their eye contact. He had the palest blue eyes she'd ever seen, his stare was unnerving. "I'm Willow."

"Dudley." He answered, and shook her proffered hand. Willow did her best not to wince under his crushing grip. "I'm sorry about your parents, Mum told me." Willow nodded, and again took a sip of tea, but this time to help swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. She didn't want these people to be sorry about her parents. She wasn't ready for them to be sorry for them. Not yet.

"Yeah." She finally answered near-inaudibly. "Me, too."

"That was an awesome lesson." Harry reported to Ron as they left their Defense class, a few weeks later. "I don't want to say it, but she may be better than Lupin. Maybe it's just because what we're studying is more interesting."

Ron shrugged in response. "I just hope she makes it until next year. I don't want to think that we might lose another good defense teacher. Next thing you know, we're going to have another Umbridge on our hands. If it comes down to that, I'll take a page from Fred and George's books and get outta here. Like they said, it's just a N.E.W.T.s year."

"I'd still stay, thanks." Harry answered. "Even another Umbridge has to be better than the Dursleys. Wouldn't swear to that, though."

"No problem." Harry answered. "So, what do we follow up that lesson with?"

"Double Transfiguration." Ron answered, rolling his eyes. Harry knew their schedule just as well as they did, but for some reason, he was always asking what class they had. "Just like every other Tuesday."

"Did you finish your homework?" Harry shot back.

"Of course, Harry. I'm dating Hermione." Ron answered, and received a sharp glare. "Which has nothing to do with the fact that I did my homework. Because I'd do my homework anyway, and Hermione is so distracting that she makes me get less done. You know, because she's so awe-inspiring that I just can't do anything around her but stare." He added very quickly, scrambling for words.

"Nice save." Harry remarked conversationally. "And look, you made her blush."

Hermione glared darkly at Harry, and headed very purposely towards their classroom. "Thanks, mate." Ron whispered gratefully to Harry before rushing to follow his girlfriend. Harry laughed and adjusted his bag before setting after them.

"Welcome." He answered to himself, grinning at his two best friends.

Walking into the classroom, he deposited his essay scroll on McGonagall's desk on the pile of others. He took his customary seat next to Ron and behind Hermione. The class settled themselves before McGonagall entered the room. She swiftly took her place at the front of the room, effectively cutting off the whispers of the class. "Thank you for your silence. I assume that means somehow you know what we're doing today." McGonagall spoke.

"Very well, then. For those of you who mind your own business and are properly confused, today we're going to explore our Animagi forms. On each of your desks, there should be a set of vials. In each set there are six vials. There are two sets of three. One is clear, the second is amber, and the last is bright blue. Does everyone have three vials in front of them?"

No one spoke. Most of the class was studying the potions before them. The amber-colored one seemed to quickly palpitate from a pale yellow to a dark gold, and the "bright blue" was actually an electric blue, and grew brighter and dimmer in a slow pulse. "I'll assume that's a yes." McGonagall continued, rolling her eyes skyward.

"Very good." She added, glancing around the room. "Now, if there is a volunteer?" Half of the class raised their hands, from both the Gryffindor and Slytherin sides. "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, please bring up your vial set, and come to the front of the class. Mr. Weasley, we'll begin with you." Ron and Harry carefully carried up their potions. "You won't need your wand."

Ron handed Harry his wand, and stepped in front of McGonagall. "The important thing, children, to know, is that this will not make you and Animagus. This will simply show you your form, and allow you to remain within your Animagus long enough to gain control of your alternate being. That way, should you decide to become and Animagus there won't be any unpleasant...surprises.

"Alright, Mr. Weasley. Anxious, I see. Please drink the clear potion. As for the potions, you will be addressing these with Professor Snape..." Professor McGonagall added as Ron downed the vial holding the clear substance. "Concentrate, Mr. Weasley." She snapped suddenly, as the redhead who adopted a rather vapid expression.

Ron jerked to attention. "Now, Mr. Weasley, think, please, about yourself. Exclude relationships and outward emotions. When you're mind is clear of everything but you, say _Mutego_, drink the amber potion, and say _Mutego Abeofera_."

Ron didn't move for several minutes. Just when the rest of the class was about to loose their attentiveness, he spoke, "_Mutego_." Then he swallowed the amber potion in two large gulps. Then, "_Mutego Abeofera_."

The change was slow, and slightly grotesque. It was much slower than McGonagall's first display of her own Animagus form. First, he grew hair all over his face and arms (where his skin was visible). His ears pointed upwards and seemed to slide up the side of his face. The front of his face pushed forward while his feet elongated, and the his heels shifted to an odd position. The balls of his feet and his toes formed black pads beneath him as his torso grew longer, and his legs shrunk and shifted.

Two or three minutes after the change began, Ron was no longer human. He was in the form of an absurdly large reddish (and gray and white) timber wolf.

"Why is he so big?" Hermione spoke, not taking her eyes from her boyfriend.

"He's no regular wolf, Ms. Granger. He is a direwolf." McGonagall answered. "Mr. Weasley, please go and sit next to Mr. Finnegan."

The wolf bared its teeth at her, momentarily Ron was lost to his own instincts. "Mr. Weasley!" She snapped sharply. "To Mr. Finnegan." The wolf paused its growling and sat on it haunches, cocking its head at her. "_Now_!" She added. The wolf lolled out its tongue as if in agreement, and briskly walked next to his classmate. Seamus tilted his head to one side, and smiled widely when Ron copied the movement.

With Seamus and Ron both sitting down, the wolf's eyes were just below Seamus'. Ron, standing, in his Animagus form was about four and a half feet tall.

"Whoa." Hermione spoke under her breath. Ron cocked his ears up, and headed towards her, keeping slightly close to the ground. She reached out, finger shaking, and pat him awkwardly on the head. He seemed to enjoy it, so she continued stroking him. To her amusement, he wagged his tail. A moment afterwards, he headed to the front of the classroom and stood in front of McGonagall. He slowly reclaimed his usual form, a forlorn look in his eye.

"Mr. Weasley, please drink the blue potion." McGonagall spoke, and he downed the substance.

"Blueberry." He muttered afterwards. "I am going to be an Animagus no matter what it takes." He declared under his breath. "That was the most wicked thing I've ever done. Ever."

Harry gave both of their wands to Ron, anxious for his own turn. McGonagall suppressed a laugh at that. She meet his emerald eyes, and held out a palm. "Hand me your glasses, Mr. Potter." He did so, and McGonagall was slightly surprised at the brightness of his eyes without them being caged with his spectacles. "Now, Mr. Potter, drink the clear potion." He did so.

"Please, think about yourself. Exclude relationships and outward emotions. When you're mind is clear of everything but you, say _Mutego_, drink the amber potion, and say _Mutego Abeofera_."

This pause was nearly twice as long as Ron's had been, but no one in the class looked away. They were all interested in what _the_ Harry Potter would become. Finally, "_Mutego_." He drank the amber-colored potion. "_Mutego Abeofera_."

Nothing happened, at first. Nearly five minutes passed in fact, but then Harry Potter began to change.  
  


(a/n: that's all for today. Hoped you enjoyed it. Yay! More out soon, I promise. Review! Tell me whatcha think!)


	5. Chapter 4

(a/n:  I love this story, and I love you beautiful reviewers!  Lemme know what you think of Harry's Animagus form.  I just wanted to do something that no one's ever done before.  I swear, I didn't have this planned, so it's all one huge coincidence, alright.  I swear: no planning whatsoever.  Btw:  I don't own = you don't sue.  Get it?  Good.)

Chapter Four of Unexpected Losses

Harry began to change.  The first thing to happen was that his skin turned white.  The white was so bright it seemed to exude brilliance.  Except at his scar, which turned a vivid red in color.  The hair on his scalp shortened considerably, and a thick coat grew everywhere else.  His emerald green eyes remained his own throughout the transformation, but his vision corrected.  All of his senses sharpened.

Colors were brighter and he suddenly saw shades that hadn't existed before.  A student in the back shifted in their stool, the resounding squeak would never have been heard by any human, but Harry heard it as clearly as if it had been made inside of his head.  He fell forward as his feet stretched, his heel forming what resembled a backwards joint.  White pads formed on his palms and fingers, and on his feet.  He stretched, and to his unmarked embarrassment, grew a tail.  His ears grew tufts on the ends, giving them a pointed look.

The smells, though.  That was the biggest difference that Harry felt.  That and that he was suddenly far shorter than he'd been before.  Every smell was new, stronger.  It was surprising just how hard the scent hit him.  From where he stood, there was no mistaking the world around him.  Every person, he could distinguish by their scent.  Perfume overwhelmed him for a moment; the disgusting false odor was intense.  Harry flinched away from it.

There was a sudden new sense at his movement.  It was unlike anything that he'd ever smelled before.  It was intoxicating, all-consuming.  It was _prey_.  The scent was so thick, he could nearly taste it, and it was delicious.  It was _fear_.  And scared prey made for an easy meal.  "Mr. Potter."  The voice jerked Harry's mind over the instincts of his Animagus form.  "Mr. Potter, please go and sit in between Ms. Granger and Ms. Parkinson."

"Why?"  He asked, but he did not speak, but a short roar was his speech.

"Mr. Potter, please do so now."  The professor spoke again, and Harry did move.  The false smell of perfume exuded powerfully from Pansy, so Harry kept walking sitting on the other side of Hermione.  He was between Hermione and Neville, then.  Hermione, unlike many females in the class, smelled so _real_.  Like roses.  Earthy.  It was a wonderful smell, and in appreciation, he laid his head in her lap.

Humor rolled in waves from her.  He didn't know how, but Harry _sensed_ it.  A strange, painful cramp in his stomach washed over him, and he headed back towards McGonagall again.  A moment later, and he was Harry again.  His joints hurt badly, his muscles felt oddly stretched, and was over-all quite uncomfortable.  He swallowed the blue potion without question and internally rejoiced when the pain receded completely.  Professor McGonagall returned his glasses without comment, and Harry retook his seat next to Ron.

"What was I?"  Harry asked him quietly, from the corner of his mouth, as the rest of the class requested the next turn.

"Remember Professor Kehoe's class a few weeks ago?"  Ron questioned back, with his light blue eyes wide.  Harry thought for a moment, and then the answer hit him.  From what he saw of himself, and what he felt, there was only one answer to what he had become.  Swamplight Lynx.

_Well_.  He thought, turning towards the front of the room, as Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini stepped up.  _That's a twist_.

Draco stepped forward arrogantly, and downed the clear potion.  A moment later, "_Mutego_."  He swallowed the amber potion with a single swig.  "_Mutego Abeofera_."  He immediately began to shrink, and grow hair.  It was striped, that was immediately obvious, but not much else could be told by the minute changes that began his transformation.

Surprisingly enough, of all the students in the class, Ron was the first to realize what Draco was turning into, and he fell out of his seat at the realization, laughing.  Confused and slightly concerned, Harry leaned over his friend to offer him a hand up, but Ron didn't see his hand, tearing up in his laughter.  Harry cocked an eyebrow at him, silently wondering if someone had hurled a tickling charm at his best friend.

Ron didn't seem to be breathing, and was turning an alarming shade of red as Harry looked on, still perturbed at the sight.  "Are you alright, mate?"  He questioned, still offering his hand to the redhead.  Ron shook his head, rocking back and forth, clutching his sides.  Eventually he managed to point towards the front of the room, and to Malfoy.

The blonde prince of Slytherin had finished his transformation.  In his surprise at the sight that greeted him, he, too, fell from his stool, sliding backwards.  He reeled his arms for a moment, but crashed next to Ron.  For a moment he saw stars, but when his vision cleared well enough that he could stand without getting too dizzy to stand, he did.  And what he'd seen hadn't changed.

The sight was a delicious one, for Harry, at for some reason, it felt like a victory.  And he really, really wished that Colin had this one class with him, and his camera on him.  There would never be another opportunity like this.  Harry could literally _feel_ the moment escape him, when Draco finally returned to his regular form, clearly humiliated.

"Hey, Malfoy, look at it this way," Ron demanded of the blonde in between peals of laughter.  "At least this time, you didn't _bounce_."  He slipped halfway off his stool again before he righted himself again.  The entire Gryffindor class was obviously doing their best to contain their laughter (most of them failing), while the Slytherin side seemed to be ignoring the boy.  Harry had never seen the Slytherin boy quite to red before.  Even at his angriest, his pale complexion never wavered…now, he slightly resembled a tomato.  A pale, undernourished, and yellow-y tomato, but a tomato nonetheless.

Blaise nervously drank the clear potion, and, just as those before him, went through McGonagall's process of spells, potions, and thought.  Blaise didn't take as much time to speak the spell in its entirety as those before him, and his transformation seemed somehow more graceful than those before him.  His Animagus form was, almost surprisingly, a cat; like the Gryffindor Housemaster.  He was all black, except for a white patch at his crest.  He glanced smugly at the class before alighting McGonagall's desk at her command.

The movement from floor to desk, despite being at McGonagall's command, was obviously made slowly: as if to prove that it was his own idea.  He curled up into a ball and stared, apparently bored, at the class with bright yellow eyes.  He was still sitting on the desk when he resumed his normal form.  He lightly jumped to his feet and self-importantly brushed himself off before retaking his seat, drinking the blue potion on his way.

Hermione and Neville were the next to go.  Hermione's form was a large Peregrine falcon, she was magnificent.  An ashy-blue on her back and four-foot wingspan, white underneath, barred with black.  She had a blue-black cap and mustache.  She turned her head to the wall, watching the whole of the class with a single, piercing blue eye.  Her beak was short, hooked, and each of her talons ended in a wickedly curved claw.  After performing McGonagall's task, she returned to her normal form, and silently accepted her potion.  She drank it even as she headed back to her seat, still absorbed in the transformation that had just taken place. 

Neville took a long time, just as Harry had, in speaking the spell.  His changes were no less time-consuming than any others, but his form was surprising.  A lion.  A fully-grown African lion, full mane and all.  He was nearly nine feet long (just like with Harry: discounting the tail), and a golden color.  His long mane was dark brown, just as the tuft on the end of his tail was.  He glared at the class with fierce golden eyes, and sat on his haunches, as if puzzling out the classroom.  When he returned to his seat, he was in awe of his own experience, and absentmindedly drank the potion their Transfigurations Professor handed him.

Seamus and Dean were up next.  Seamus had, to his personal delight, turned into a raccoon, and had set about frightening almost every girl in the room before returning to his own form, grinning. 

Dean had become a snake, a python, to be exact, and twelve feet long, and almost a foot around its girth.  He didn't seem to wish to listen to Professor McGonagall, but Harry, thanks to his Parseltongue, was able to convince Dean to come back to himself.  When he returned to his normal form, he was shivering.  He downed the blue potion without question, still rubbing his arms.  "Bloody cold."  He muttered to himself, taking his seat.

"That was the coolest transfiguration class _ever_."  Ron declared as they left, nearly an hour later.  Harry and Hermione agreed breathlessly as they scurried towards their lunch, all hungry.  "You guys gonna do it?  Become Animagi?"

"They'd have to kill me to stop me."  Harry admitted with a grin.  "So I was a Swamplight Lynx, then?  That's an awesome coincidence, with Professor K's class.  It was so weird, though, I thought I was either going to hunt someone down or run like hell...by the way, Hermione:  you smell good."

"You noticed that, too?"  Ron laughed, as Hermione blushed.  "I thought Pansy and her bloody perfume were going to kill me, I've never smelled anything so horrible in my life.  So, Herm, still scared to fly?"

"Not like that."  Hermione answered with a faraway look in her eyes.  "On a broom:  not on your life, but as an Animagus...nothing could keep me grounded.  So, do you guys want to start researching yet?"  She grinned as she spoke, and just as she'd expected Harry and Ron rolled their eyes.  "Become an Animagus is no easy task, you guys.  There are months and _months_ of preparation that we have to go through.  It's not something that you can decide to do one day and do the next.  Library.  Starting tomorrow after classes."

Both boys sighed, knowing that arguing with Hermione in a mood like that one was completely pointless.  Ron perked up quickly.  "Can you belief Malfoy?  I thought I was going to die," he snickered.  "I just wished he bounced.  Malfoy:  the Amazing Ferret.  It just doesn't have the same ring without the bouncing."

Willow, meanwhile, had begun to settle into life with the Dursleys.  It was surprising how monotonous the days became, every one being so much like the one before that it was hard to recognize it as another day.  She did well in school, acing every subject, and being ahead in most of them.  She enjoyed school, and tentatively made new friends.  Her days were marked by the e-mails she shared with her friends, usually with them updating her on the fast-paced world of a Hellmouth.

A girl named Faith had turned up, and she, too, was a Slayer.  Buffy was getting used to having another girl helping her, and they were forming a friendship.  Cordelia and Xander were amidst an on-again phase of their relationship, and according to Buffy: disgusting, with her on the side drowning in the gooey sappiness and occasional insult. 

According to Xander, her most usual pen-buddy, everyone missed her terribly, and there was a horrible gaping hole in the Scooby-gang without her.  Willow practiced her magic whenever she had a spare moment, which was an amount of time that, despite never changing, was impossibly long or nowhere near enough.  Willow was advancing quickly, to her own surprise.  She kept constant contact with Giles about her magical progress and he helped her whenever he could, but was adamant about not answering her questions involving his magic.

She was beginning to anticipate the arrival of Harry, just to bring a new atmosphere to the house.  Anything to break the monotony.  Willow had quickly grown to be uncomfortable with her surrogate family.  For some reason, only "Aunt" Petunia seemed to care about her at all, and was willing to talk to her.  One Saturday, after the morning news, a magic show had come one.

Willow had actually wanted to watch it, it was supposed to be a seamless show: at the very least entertaining for a witch who'd already finished her homework.  But as soon as Mr. Dursley had heard the advertisement of the show, he turned it off, muttering darkly under his breath.  He then proceeded to glare at Willow until she'd fled the room for the safety of her bedroom.  Willow grew glad of her decision to hide her magical supplies:  the Dursleys didn't seem to be a group who'd accept that kind of person.

It had been that day, in mid-November, after fleeing Mr. Dursley and his anger at the television's magic show, when her life on Privet Drive changed completely.  She'd moved to--rather dramatically in her opinion--fling herself onto her bed, when the front of her shoe got caught on a floorboard.

"Ow."  She announced plainly, aching all over at her topple onto the hardwood floor.  She moved to disconnect her shoe from the wood when she realize that the floorboard was loose.  "Feels like one of those cheap mystery movies."  She muttered to herself before she pulled the board free.  Underneath was, not the dust she'd expected, but an arrangement of things.  "These must be Harry's."  She muttered to herself, moving two fist-sized rocks.  To her surprise, they seemed to have raisins imbedded onto them.  She also moved a bunch of candy-wrappers with "chocolate frog" written on them, and one or two boxes with "Bertie Botts: Every Flavour Beans" as well.

On the bottom of the free-space were books.  Intrigued despite herself, she earnestly cracked open one, hoping she wasn't too-badly invading Harry's privacy.  The top book was, apparently, a book of spells.  To her surprise the cover added:  Grade One.

"Must be a series."  Willow muttered to herself, and opened the cover.  She hurriedly replaced the floorboard and sat on her bed, intent upon reading the book.  And read it she did, not descending to the main floor to join the Dursleys for dinner, not taking any break at all:  she just read.  And absorbed.

In about two hours she'd finished, contented with her success.  And then, earnestly, began the application of the reading.  Less than halfway though the book she'd realized that the book was not part of some gibberish series:  it was an actual magic book.  Giles' magic.  And with or without his help, Willow decided firmly, she would learn this magic.  All of the spells, every last one, involved using a wand, but Willow already considered the matter.

With this other form of Magic, the wizards needed their wands.  They used them to focus their magic, and were otherwise incapable of controlling it.  But Willow didn't have that problem, and decided that she could at least try to use the theories behind this magic without the wand.  What was usually more important than "wand-waving" was the words that were spoken.  That, at least, was something Willow could do.

To her delight, she was able to complete each of the spells she tried.  _Lumos_ was an interesting trial.  The spell was supposed to set a wand-tip alight, but because she didn't have a wand, a ball of light simply floated over her hand.  Thus Willow returned to the loose floorboard.  And for the next month, Willow led a triple-life.

She was an American-transfer student and a resident of the Dursley home some of the time.  She was a part-time Scooby, despite her distance, her hacking skills were not become duller; she also worked much of the time with Giles practicing her Wiccan Arts.  And finally, secretly, she was teaching herself an unfamiliar magic with the leftover schoolbooks of her soon-to-be-roommate.

And that was the icing on the cake.  In only a few days:  Harry Potter was coming home.

(a/n: sorry for the shortness.  And I apologize in the over-sight of Willow's eye color.  I don't know why I wrote green.  Maybe I subconsciously want green eyes or something…except I do…and not subconsciously:  I darmn well know it.  I hope y'all liked it.  And yay!  Next chapter:  the long awaited meeting of Willow and Harry.  And ooh!  Will's got a **_HUGE_** surprise for Christmas.  Wonder what it is…now I'll have to come up w/ something!  R&R!)


	6. Chapter 5

(a/n: Ladies and gentlemen. This is _very_ important. Personally: I love Oz. I do. Most girls with eyes and hormones love Oz. And if they don't: they love Willow. giggles Just kidding, of course. The later part of this chapter happens in season four. This story takes place in season three. It is moved up. Please don't inform me of this, I know. And to answer a question, Harry is in his sixth year in this story, and Ron and Hermione _are_ dating, and this is not a Harry/Hermione.)

Unexpected Losses: Chapter Five.

Harry packed the last of his belongings that he was taking home into his trunk. He ended taking more than he'd first expected, bringing almost everything except his broom, knowing that there wasn't much of a point in taking it. He double-checked on his text books, knowing that he'd be wanting them at some point. Even for the classes in which he did not have homework: at least he'd have some form of entertainment over the break.

Ron had been trying hard to not act overly happy at the prospect of going home, but with only Ginny left at Hogwarts, it didn't have the same Christmas-y feel without any of his brothers. Harry had been trying just as hard not to become angry at either he or Hermione. It wasn't their fault that they had families that wanted them, and both did their best to make him feel better, but Harry couldn't help it.

Ron had nearly turned conspirational before they left, clearly letting Harry know that he was sending presents to his best friend: muggle rules be damned. Harry was appreciative despite himself, and knew that no matter what, Ron would be sure to get presents to him. Hermione had said nothing, which generally meant while she disapproved, she wouldn't argue about it. That generally meant that Ron was going to do just as he promised.

Neville was staying, of course, but simply wished his friends well. This made Harry feel _much_ worse than he had before, knowing that Neville was even worse off than he was. Neville seemed to sense Harry's unwanted sympathy and took to avoiding him whenever possible. Harry had, at first, tried talking to his fellow Gryffindor, but Neville made the task difficult.

When Harry finally caught up with Neville, he simply offered a "Happy Christmas," to Neville's relief, and returned to his dorm. Where he found himself finishing his packing. Just as on September eleventh every year, the Hogwarts Express was leaving at eleven o'clock sharp the next morning.

Harry had spent a lot of time brooding over his departure, but with enough cajoling from both Hermione and Ron, he relaxed. He spent almost all of his time with them, but the rest of it he spent alone, with Hedwig, or with Hagrid, who seemed to appreciate the company of his much, much smaller friend.

It was there, staring into space, sitting on the end of his bed, pondering over leaving Hogwarts, that Ron found him. Grinning, Ron waved a hand in front of Harry, trying to break him out of his daze. Harry didn't move, his thoughts turned completely inwards. Snickering, Ron returned to his bedside stand and picked up a small, silver, clock-like contraption.

"Think fast!" He shouted, and hurled it at Harry, who unthinkingly raised a hand and caught it. A moment later, he blinked into awareness and stared blankly at the object in his hand, not recognizing it. Ron just laughed. He'd discovered that particular talent of Harry's a few months before, after hurling a snitch-sized paper ball when he dozed off in History of Magic. "Wake up, mate." Ron added. "It's our last dinner for a while, you know."

"Don't want to miss that." Harry replied dryly. Ron nodded enthusiastically, missing the sarcasm in his deep and unshakable love for food. The pair headed off, joking around, towards the Great Hall, where Hermione would undoubtedly already be. She would probably have a book propped up in front of her and be rushing in her attempts at one more sweep of the library's Animagus section (a/n: this is me assuming they have one!!) before they headed home.

She had had her two best friends studying nearly nonstop since their Animagus class, but neither argued after a short while. For which she was grateful. For the most part, their subject was unwaveringly interesting, but when the material was dry…dry wasn't a strong enough word.

All three wondered how the Marauders were able to become Animagi when they were only in their fifth year. Hermione persisted that it must have been because it took them two years to accomplish the act, but even then it would've been nigh impossible. The potion that was required was positively the most confusing thing that Hermione had ever read.

Unfortunately, they each needed to brew the potion on their own, because one of the base ingredients of the work was a piece of their hair. It had to be added every day at precisely the same time for two months. And it, of course, had to be _fresh_ for lack of better word.

Otherwise, most of the ingredients were next to impossible to find, and each of the Golden Trio doubted firmly that Snape would kindly hand over what they needed. Hermione, because of her relationship with Madame Pince, was able to take some of the library books with her, with promise of an undefiled and prompt return. Ron had muttered something about Librarian Pet, but upon further question by Hermione, had wisely shut his mouth.

To their surprise, Hermione wasn't in her usual seat, and after a quick glance over the tables, realized that she wasn't in the Great Hall at all. They took their normal seat, assuming that she'd already eaten and was at the library already. Hermione rushed in a few minutes later, red-cheeked and with anger radiating off of her.

Ron and Harry shared a look as she abruptly slammed down into her seat. "Hermione, are you alright?" Ron asked in a quiet, nearly fearful tone.

She sent him a glare in return that could've frozen his soul. "And the nitwit asks if I'm alright." She sneered at him, and said nothing more, glaring at everything that dared to catch her eye. In a move that didn't truly suit Ron and his surprising sensitivity to anything from Hermione, he reached across the table and took her hand in his as she reached for her fork.

"Hermione." He said in a voice that could easily be described as sad. She met his eyes, slowly, and the anger in those cobalt orbs lessened some. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

Hermione stared blankly at him for a few minutes, retrieved her hand, and fled the Great Hall. No one seemed to notice her departure except for Ron and Harry. The pair ran after her after less than a moment. Something was wrong with their best friend, and they were going to find out what. And in the next sixteen hours…if they decided that they didn't need sleep.

They headed first towards the Library, which was empty, and then they checked the Gryffindor common room, but met no luck. One by one, they checked everywhere that they usually found the brunette. Wearily, Harry suggested the Owlery, and Ron agreed. Surprisingly enough, that's where they found her. She sat on a step, with Hedwig standing on her forearm.

She'd obviously been there a while. Hedwig look comfortable as Hermione absentmindedly stroked the owl, and then scratched at her crest, removing lose feathers to Hedwig's obvious pleasure. There was no emotion on her face, she just sat and stroked.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, and Hermione jumped. Hedwig barely seemed to register the surprised movement. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Leave me alone, Ron." She answered. "Nothing's wrong…I'm just…I'm just in a bad mood. Go away.

"Sorry, can't." Ron replied indifferently, and walked up to her, and took a seat beside her. To his relief, she didn't leave. Harry met Ron's eyes, and understood his redheaded friend's silent message.

"You know where I'll be." He mouthed to Ron, and beat a hasty retreat, sensing that this was a "couple" thing.

Almost an hour later, Hermione and Ron returned. Hermione seemed considerably happier, but Ron looked as if he was going to kill something, but most probably someone. Harry was in the Common Room waiting for the pair, but Ron headed straight up to his room. Hermione, on the other hand, simply took her customary seat across from Harry.

"You okay?" He asked her.

"Yes." She answered. "I'm sorry about that. Today hasn't been the best."

"Anything I can do?" He replied after a moment.

"I think so." She answered simply. At his prompting look, she continued. "Don't let Ron kill anyone, okay? It's not that big a deal, but you know Ron…involve Malfoy and all the common sense and logic he's ever possessed just flies out the window."

"Malfoy?" Harry questioned, slightly confused. "Did he do something to you?" He jumped to his feet quickly.

"I've already got an overprotective Knight in Shining Armor parading about for me, Hare. Thanks, but just don't let Ron get out of hand. Malfoy's not worth it." Hermione answered with a small grin. Harry shook himself mentally and smiled in response.

"You've got it, Herm." Harry returned, and was surprised with a hug before Hermione left to go to her dorms. Harry returned to his own, and was surprised to see that it was almost eleven o'clock. They'd gone down to dinner at seven. It seemed a lifetime ago already.

Ron was awake when Harry returned, and sitting Indian-style on his bed. He looked up to Harry when he entered the room. "What did he do?" Harry asked simply. He knew that Hermione wouldn't want him inquiring, but he hated Malfoy just as much as Ron did…or at least he did most of the time.

"He hurt her." Ron answered after a long moment in an angry voice. "Not physically. She could out-curse him any day, any where. He just knows how to get to her. He said some stuff. She was feeling, to sum it up, hurt and more than just a little pissed."

"Ah." Harry answered calmly, but part of him was seething. He couldn't wait for Draco Malfoy to get his, the boy was impossible, and unjustifiably cruel.

Ron understood every word Harry didn't say, though. "I'm not going to do anything stupid. The bastard had just best stay out of my way and especially Hermione's, or I'm going to have to kill him, that's all." He spoke then. "We'd best get to bed. T'morrow's last breakfast…" He added drowsily as he crawled under the covers and shut the bed curtains.

Harry copied Ron's movements. The next day he'd be going back to the Dursleys…and towards an uncertain holiday involving a possible Dudley II.

Willow woke giddy. This was finally a new day, with new events, and a new person. A wizard-person to make the thought even better. Willow was on Grade Four of the spell books, and for merely a month of work, she was extraordinarily proud of herself. The only person that she told of her magical-tinkering was Xander, who promised to keep his mouth shut.

She was surprised to find herself, for the first time in a long time, heading downstairs happily towards a cup of mint tea. She found herself unable to skip a daily tea, which Xander mocked her for. With threats of a magical demise, he'd managed to contain himself…most of the time.

Vernon was sure to be awake, but for once Willow didn't mind. Nothing could damper this day completely: pardoning only the possibility that Harry could be just as boring as the rest of the Dursleys. Willow wasn't sure that she could take another one of them. They'd been rather indefinite about his schooling, and now that she knew why Willow was doubly curious about him.

She entered the kitchen, fully dressed only ten minutes after waking. She wore a black, v-necked sleeveless shirt and a boot-cut styled dark blue jeans. She wasn't wearing shoes at the moment, but her socked feet remained clean thanks to Petunia's efforts. She had a pair of black ankle boots up in her bedroom by her door, just waiting to be worn.

Most of the outfit was thanks to Buffy and Cordelia's fashion expertise, including the black, unadorned, velvet choker. The only thing that was purely her own was her silver chain link necklace, which had her parent's wedding rings on it. She hadn't gone anywhere without it since she received the rings, which her parents never took with them on their travels.

When she'd first gotten the outfit, she was surprised at how it looked on her. It didn't feel like her, but she had grown to like the Buffy-Cordelia-Willow style. So much so, in fact, that she started addressing it as the Willow style.

Petunia was in the kitchen when Willow arrived. Within a few moments, Petunia handed her a cup of mint tea, fully equipped with three sugar cubes in the saucer and a delicate spoon. Willow put two sugar cubes in the tea and stirred it. The last cube, she simply placed in her mouth, sighing in ecstasy when the sugar melted sweetly on her tongue.

After the deliciously saccharine cube was gone the tea held a slightly bitter taste to it, but Willow enjoyed the conflicting flavors. "Thank you, Aunt Petunia." She whispered dreamily over her tea.

"Of course, dear." Petunia answered absentmindedly, and set about making breakfast for the rest of the family. "I'm sure that you remember that my nephew is coming home today?"

"Yes, ma'am…Harry, right?" Willow answered in a completely false voice, and furrowed her brow in unfelt confusion.

"That's right, dear." Petunia answered, whipping four eggs with a whisk in a bowl in the usual preparations. She added a bit of salt and pepper as she continued whisking. "Now, we don't generally discuss his schooling here. He doesn't like talking about it, so we try not to ask questions."

"Alright, Aunt Petunia." Willow answered promptly. "I understand, and I won't ask him a thing."

"Very good, dear. Now, Vernon's going to go and pick him up this afternoon. We're going to have an early dinner today, alright?" Petunia asked. Willow made an affirmative noise into her tea. "Now, I know that you might like to go and see London soon, I'm afraid that this wouldn't be an opportune time."

"That's alright. I don't mind. There will be other times." Willow answered, secretly upset. She wanted to ask if she could go with Vernon to pick Harry up. She really was looking forward to meeting him, and despite herself was getting a little nervous.

"I'm so glad you're taking this so well." Petunia spoke approvingly. "You've been so accommodating for us, dear. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, thank you, Aunt Petunia. Thank you, though. Could I just have some grapefruit for breakfast? If we're having an early dinner, I don't want to be too full."

"Of course, dear. I do wonder, though, if you're just asking because you get more sugar." Petunia teased Willow lightly. Willow blushed when the woman sensed her ulterior motives for her breakfast fruit.

"Maybe just a little." Willow answered with a shy smile; grinning outright when Aunt Petunia placed another sugar cube in her palm, before preparing a grapefruit for Willow, cherry and sugar topping included.

__

Harry stepped from the Hogwarts Express. He, Ron, and Hermione were nearly jumped by the Weasley family. Surprisingly enough, that group included Percy, who shook his hand firmly, blushing slightly. Harry nodded once, slowly, knowing that the redhead was trying to apologize.

Molly Weasley descended upon him, hugging him fiercely before releasing him, just as he turned purple, to hug Hermione just as tightly. Harry grinned as he was sandwiched in a hug in between Fred and George. The Weasley Wizard Wheezes company had blossomed under Harry's kind patronage.

They winked at him conspirationally as they whispered something about free samples. Harry bit back a laugh at that. Hermione's parents were there, too, looking entirely comfortable with the situation. Hermione flung herself at them, glad to see them for the first Christmas holiday in five years.

Vernon was astonishingly easy to find, standing with his back to a brick column, neither looking for Harry nor hiding from him, as he'd done before. Harry walked up to him, rolling his trunk on a trolley, with Hedwig sitting atop it. Vernon nodded once, but said nothing as he led Harry away and back to his car.

Harry waved a sullen goodbye towards his suddenly distressed friends, who uncertainly waved back in response. Harry barely managed to keep up with his uncle, who seemed determined to leave all semblance of the wizarding world as far behind him as he could manage.

When both uncle and nephew were packed an in the car Vernon glared at Harry. "There are rules, boy." He hissed, and Harry nodded. He knew that already. "And you'd best follow them. Or _else_." Harry nodded again, when he was younger, he may have been frightened by this threat, but Vernon no longer scared him at all.

"First of all, Willow knows nothing of your…condition. And she does not need to. You will not mention it, you will not send nor receive mail during this visit. That bloody owl will be allowed out by night, but Willow does not find out. During daylight hours, that bird will be properly contained.

"Because Willow does not know about you, you have been staying in a boarding school that your parents sought out for you. Stick to that story."

"Better than St. Brutus'." Harry muttered under his breath in reply. Vernon acted as if he did not hear him.

"You will be sharing a room with her, and you'd best behave yourself, because you could be moved back to the cupboard any time we choose." Vernon continued. Harry didn't say anything at that, but was internally surprised.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry replied dryly.

"Good."

The rest of the ride was spend in silence. Vernon clearly ignoring Harry at all costs, and Harry brooding about the upcoming venture.

Willow waited impatiently for the day to come to a close. She'd spent most of it on an instant messenger with Xander, who'd kept her entertained as long as he was able, but he had to go at about three in the afternoon. Thus he left Willow alone to face the monster of her boredom. She'd tried to read, but found herself too easily distracted. She wondered why she was so nervous. She had all the real friends she needed back home, and they wouldn't be sharing a room long. Despite that, Willow really wanted them to get along.

Dinner had been an interesting affair, at about four in the afternoon. Vernon had firmly informed Willow that she was going to avoid Harry at all costs, perhaps in more discreet terms, but Willow got the message. She had just nodded solemnly and returned to her pork chops.

It was interesting how she perceived things about Harry, knowing the truth about his schooling. Things they said, and how she understood them. The more she listened to them, the more she understood that nothing they said was a direct lie. It became blaringly obvious that they didn't approve of magic, though, which explained Vernon's earlier reaction to the magic show.

And it made Willow very glad that she hid all of her magical possessions from them. They'd probably kick her out if they ever discovered them.

Willow, at about eight o'clock decided to check her e-mail one last time, before going downstairs to great Harry, who was supposed to arrive at about eight thirty. She'd received messages, unexpectedly from each and every one of her usual mail buddies (Xander, Buffy, Giles, Oz, and in this case: also Cordelia). Willow quickly assumed that there was some kind of an emergency.

She decided to read Xander's first, but paused as the subject hyperlink said only: **_Read Oz's first. If there's not one, call me._**

Confused and slightly worried, she clicked on Oz's e-mail. The hyperlinked subject next to his name said only: **_Sorry_**. She slowly moved the curser over the words, which turned into a pointing hand when she did. She clicked it.

__

To: "Willow" RedWitchaol.com

From: "Oz" WolfBoyhotmail.com

Subject: **Sorry.**

__

Will,

I don't know how to say this, so I just will. I was touring with the band, and went to another show on our night off. There was a band, a singer called Veruca. She's a wolf…like me. It was the full moon, and I broke out of my cage.

Apparently I met her when I was wolfed out. No one got hurt, thank god.

Willow, she told me things, about being a wolf. How it's in me all the time. She's right. On the next day, I tried to convince her to stay in a cage. I didn't want her to hurt anyone, like I almost have a lot of times. I slept with her to get her to stay, I didn't see any other choice.

Xander found us, together, on the next morning. I'm sorry Willow. I'm leaving Sunnydale for a while. I've got to find a cure for this, and where I'm going probably won't have a computer. I've got to find a cure for this before I can't tell if I'm wolf or man.

I love you, and I'm sorry.

Oz.

Willow read the e-mail four times before she understood its message. Tears fell on her fingers, which rested on her keyboard, before she noticed that she was crying. She slowly, with a trembling hand, rolled her mouse upwards to click onto Xander's link.

__

To: "Willow" RedWitchaol.com

From: "Xander" TheXanMancconnect.net

Subject: **Read Oz's first. If there's not one, call me.**

Willow,

I'm assuming that you either got Oz's e-mail or were too curious to help yourself, so you're reading this anyway. If you've gotten it, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Buffy nearly killed him, I think, and none of us are talking to him. He took off, too. Cleared out of Devon's house. I couldn't care less, but I knew you would, and I asked Devon about it, where he went. Oz left the dingoes. Dunno where he went, though.

Please call me, I know you're going to wanna talk about this, you need to. Day or night. I'm your shoulder, Will, always.

I love you.

Xander

Willow closed her computer, her eyes too blurry to read any of the other e-mails. She buried her face into her pillows and sobbed. She was angry, but more than anything else, she was hurt. _Didn't see any other choice?! Like maybe **telling**_ _someone._

Willow sat up and moved her laptop from her bed. She scooted until she was sitting, leaning against the wall. She crossed her ankles, and pulled her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested her forehead on her legs. She was trying not to cry, and trying to break up the huge lump that took residence in her throat.

Oz had _cheated_ on her. There was nothing that could make that okay. There was nothing she could do to feel better. A sob escaped her despite her efforts to smother it. What had she done that was so wrong? Was it because she had moved? Oz had never been much of an e-mail buddy, and she had been spending most of her e-time with Xander. Maybe she ignored him?

There didn't seem to be an answer. Veruca, though, she was in a band, too. They must've had so much in common…

Willow berated herself. She didn't know Veruca. She may not have known that she and Oz were together. Not if Oz didn't tell…but then again, Willow had never known him to be the type that lied. Willow decided that she must've somehow pushed him away from her. This had to be her fault…

Her computer beeped, annoyingly, and rang: "_You've got mail_."

Willow picked it up, and clicked on the envelope.

__

To: "Willow" RedWitchaol.com

From: "Xander" TheXanMancconnect.net

Subject: **Fault.**

Willow. It's not your fault. I know you're blaming yourself. Stop.

I still love you,

Xander.

Willow put down her computer again, and burst into a fresh bout of tears at that. That settled it. It was her fault. Her fault for paying too much attention to Xander, too much time writing to him, or about him. Somehow: she was to blame.

"_You've got mail._"

"I don't bloody care." Willow replied through a sheen of tears, her face crumpling in pain.

"_You've got mail_."

Willow snatched up the computer, from where she'd thrown it on the floor.

She clicked on the envelope.

__

To: "Willow" RedWitchaol.com

From: "Xander" TheXanMancconnect.net

Subject: [None]

Willow, for God's sake stop it. I can hear you blaming yourself from here. Stop it. It's not your fault. You've done nothing wrong. He did something wrong, Will. **He**did it, don't blame yourself.

Love you,

Xander.

She tried to stop, at that, Xander had a point. Xander was still dating Cordelia. There was absolutely nothing between them. This one was all on Oz. Somehow, the thought did nothing to alleviate her mood. She witched off her computer and stuffed it into her bedside table drawer. She resolutely stuffed her head under her pillow, and cried until she felt empty.

A while later, she had cried herself into a daze. She wasn't _quite_ asleep, but complete consciousness eluded her. She jumped up, having been laying on her stomach, when someone laid a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes, she knew, would be shiny and puffy, and her face a little splotchy. Willow was definitely not a pretty crier. She looked up to meet her room-invader's eyes, to meet the most sincere emerald pools she'd ever seen in her life.

"Hi." He managed after a moment, and with a self-depreciating look in his eyes, he flushed. "Are-are you okay?"

Harry finally rid himself of his uncle, after arriving home. He was surprised to find that Petunia had a plate heated and ready for him at his entrance to the kitchen. It was almost as good as the food at Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia said nothing to him directly, but set herself about her work, purposefully ignoring him.

When he'd finished, he washed his dishes and put them away, and finally headed up to his room. He assumed that's when he'd meet Willow, the probably she-Dudley. He was surprised to enter the dark room, no lights were on. He reached out and flicked them on. The girl lying on the bed had red hair to match the Weasleys.

She was slender, lying on top of her blankets, fully clothed. For a moment, Harry worried, she might well have been suffocated for all that she moved, with her head buried into her pillow. Harry, being the Gryffindor that he was, couldn't help but feel bad for her. She'd just lost her parents a month ago. He knew a little of what that was like. After all, his had died fifteen _years _ago, and he still wasn't over it. And the loss of Sirius still burned like a coal in his heart, and that, too, had been months ago.

He rested a hand on her shoulder, and was surprised when she jumped at the contact.

Hazel eyes, more brown than green, glassy with tears met his own, and he was surprised at how pretty she was. Her skin was flawless alabaster, her eyes red with crying, and her red hair was slightly mussed at the top of her head. She obviously wasn't expecting him.

Awkwardly, he spoke. "Hi." As soon as the word left his lips, he felt like an idiot. Internally, he smacked himself upside the head. "Are-are you okay?" Willow didn't say a word.

(a/n: that is it. They met. Happy? Lmao, 'cause I am! I completely believe that Willow's breakup with Oz is crucial in her character's development. Sorry Willow/Oz fans. I love him, like I said at the beginning. Let's all pretend that he's off to play Patrick in Scooby Doo 2 or something, 'kay?! Willow _does_ get a huge Christmas surprise: just…not yet. No other chapters will be this long. This chapter is super special. I'm hoping to break a hundred reviews. When I do, I'm gonna do something spastic. I dunno what, yet, but I swear I will. Lol, gimme a "spastic" idea. Review. Whatcha think? I'm hoping I surprised some and/or most of you with the Oz move…how'd I do?!)


	7. Chapter 6

From:  Ezerelda Willow!  But I agree with you, the whole Oz thing is part of what makes Willow...Willow.  Besides, it gives you the chance to enhance the whole sympathy angle. I'm a little disappointed that the only Willow/Harry interaction was the greeting at the very end, I've been looking forward to their meeting since your last update. Thanks for writing!  " 

(a/n:  ladies and gentlemen.  That was my 100th review.  This chapter is dedicated to you, Ezmerelda [btw: I like your name], and you even get more Willow/Harry interaction.  I would've had them talk more, but Willow's quite depressed, Harry doesn't know what to say, and the chapter was already longer than I was planning to make it.  I didn't know that quite so much was going to happen before Harry came home.  In fact, I didn't plan on her breaking up with Oz for a few chapters yet, but I don't write my stories.  My muses and characters go behind my back and _inform_ me on what's goin' down.  Lol…I've created a monster.  I hope this makes up for it.  I'm still wondering what spastic thing I should do for my one hundredth review, but I'm coming up empty handed!

(a/n:  And, C(a)rmeina (sry, my computer won't save the "at" symbol), I guess I love you, too?  I'm not sure, but I guess…uh…thanks for loving me or something.  And you're welcome!)

(a/n:  Oh yeah, I've been informed of a major typo.  Sort of major.  Okay, little, but funny.  On the last chapter, I said that Willow "witched" off her computer before stuffing it into a drawer.  I _meant_ "**_s_**witched."  Darn words that are wrong, but still words!  Oops!  No magic there!)

Chapter Six of Unexpected Losses

"Are-Are you okay?"

Willow didn't answer.  She just sat staring blankly at him, as if she was still trying to register that he was there.  An uncomfortable silence overcame the room.  Harry stood nervously by her bedside, and Willow didn't move an inch.  Hedwig hooted from her place in her cage atop his trunk, and they both jumped.  "An owl?"  Willow asked in a voice that rasped a little because of her recent tears.

"Hedwig.  She's mine."  Harry explained uncomfortably, gesturing to the snowy owl, who hooted again as if replying to her introduction.  "Are you alright?  Willow, I presume."

"Yes, I'm Willow.  You're Harry?"  She replied, avoiding directly answering her question.  She was far from alright, but she didn't feel up to outpouring her soul at the moment.  The only person she'd really like to talk to was Buffy or Xander.  Or Oz, to make him explain himself. 

"Yeah, Harry Potter."  He answered, outstretching a hand, which she shook.  He noticed that her hand was shaking slightly.  "Are you sure you're okay?  You seem really upset."

"I'll be fine."  Willow answered.  "It's nice to meet you, finally."  She abruptly broke off the conversation, rolling to face the wall.  She didn't want his help, or pity, just as much as she didn't want to open the e-mails from Buffy, Cordy, or Giles.  None of them would make her feel better right now.  She felt, Willow supposed, as Angel might have occasionally (a/n: all the time ((cough))), wanting nothing more to brood over the events of the past day.

Harry sighed silently.  This definitely wasn't a Dudley II; this was another _him_ like he'd been over the past summer.  Sullen, slightly annoyed, and blatantly uncaring of others.  Harry wondered the circumstances, something must've happened to make her this depressed, but there wasn't any hint as far as he knew.  He didn't want to disturb his roommate, but he slept five feet above her.  It was going to be a _long_ break.

Willow woke up to the blaring of an alarm clock that she hadn't set at five thirty in the morning.  Her eyes and head ached badly, and she was sure that she looked as if she'd just been hit by a truck.  To her surprise, Harry slowly crawled from the top bunk and turned off the clock.  His hair was sticking up far worse than it had the night before, and his clothes were rumpled.  "Must ask to switch beds."  He mumbled to himself, stretching, popping the joints in his shoulders, and his back a number of times.

Willow winced at the noise.  She rubbed her eyes, which felt gritty and dry.  She yawned and threw her blankets off herself, realizing that she was still dressed in what she wore yesterday.  To her embarrassment, Harry didn't seem to notice that she was awake, and was shirtless, standing in front of his trunk to unpack his clothes.  Or so Willow guessed.  She blushed darkly.  "I'm awake."  She spoke in a whisper, but in the silence, it was just as if she'd spoke aloud.  Harry jumped and spun to face her in his surprise.

He suddenly looked faintly embarrassed, turning red as he realized his own partial nudity.  "Er…right.  Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."  He practically dove into his nightshirt again, still blushing a little bit.

"It's okay, but why are you up?  Isn't it vacation?"  She asked, puzzled, looking at the clock again.

"I'm just going to go down and make breakfast…"  Harry trailed off at another puzzled look from Willow.

"You like to cook?"  She finally spoke.  "Want help?  I can't sleep anymore."

"Sorry about that."  Harry answered, still embarrassed.  "I'm used to waking up early.  I hoped you'd sleep through it."

"I'm a pretty light sleeper."  Willow admitted.  "I'm just gonna grab some of my stuff…"  She drifted off and stood.  She quickly gathered an outfit for the day and sped into the bathroom to change.  She was definitely going to have to get used to sharing her personal space with someone of the opposite gender.  She changed quickly into a t-shirt that she'd stolen from Xander, and hidden from Buffy and passable black pajama bottoms.  Willow needed a comfortable day.  Loose clothes, chocolate ice cream, and as much grooming as possible, especially where hair was concerned.

She pulled her hair into a short ponytail after brushing it, and washed her face twice before going downstairs, where she suspected Harry would already be.  He was in the kitchen, already, and retrieving the items he needed from about the kitchen.  He bustled around with a practiced air that surprised Willow.  He didn't look up from the refrigerator when she entered the room.  "What're you up for?"

"I'm not sure.  What are my choices?"  She asked, as she set up the tea kettle, ready for her morning cuppa.

"How about chocolate pancakes?"  He asked, sparing a glance for her from his investigation of the fridge.  Willow thought for a moment.  Sure, not healthy…but it _was_ chocolate.

"Yum."  She answered decisively and turned off the kettle.  "Oh, do you want a cup?  I usually have one, but chocolate and mint tea just doesn't seem right together, and I was thinking about milk; but if you want a cup, I can just put the heat back on.  Do you like tea?  I know that some people think that everybody over here likes tea, and so far that seems to work, but I shouldn't assume…."  Willow trailed off at the bemused expression on Harry's face.  "Sorry."  She blushed.

"It's okay.  I drink tea, but usually not in the morning."  He answered, smiling slightly and pulling a box of pancake mix from the fridge.  "Milk sounds good, actually.  Can you please get the measuring cups?"

"Sure."  Willow answered and retrieved the requested item.  "Does it matter which ones?"

"No, not really.  Can you measure eight ounces of milk, please?"  Harry asked her, working on his own task of double-checking his recipe from out of a book that Willow had seen Aunt Petunia read from daily.  Willow did as instructed, carefully making sure that her measurements were exact.  "And a two cups of the mix?  Thanks."  Willow measured out the mix, and worked herself into frustration over an almost unnoticeable measurement difference.  She nearly growled at the uncompromising, miniscule line of mix above the black indication line in the measuring cup.

Harry didn't even seem to notice, neither checking her measurements for exactness nor tearing his eyes from the recipe book.  He simply overturned the mix into a larger bowl.  The mix was quickly followed with three eggs, the milk, melted butter and chocolate chips, which melted at the butter.  He searched the cabinets for the cocoa powder, but was unsuccessful in his search.  Shrugging, he added more chocolate chips.

"I like the way you cook."  Willow laughed, and stole a small handful of the semisweet chocolate.  Harry laughed in response, and shrugged.

"Thanks.  There's just something between chocolate and every other food ever created that makes it perfect for cooking.  Even better, it's harder to get mad at adding extra. Nothing wrong with extra chocolate."  Harry answered, and began furiously stirring the mixture.

Willow's thoughts turned inwards when he began to attack the pancake batter.  She wondered if she should mention, now, that she knew about his magic.  She wanted to.  She wanted to talk about magic, because that meant she really didn't have to think about the mess that was her once-social life with the Scoobies.  Besides, she didn't want to have to stop practicing with this new magic.  It was interesting, she had better control with this magic not her own.  Wiccan magic was more familiar to her, but she had a harder time dealing with the details.  It was probably, she mused, that she had a textbook in front of her involving the other magic.  That had to make it much easier to use.

"—okay?"  Harry broke through her thoughts, pouring a third circle of batter into the sizzling pan.  He had a slightly concerned look on his face, and Willow blushed again.  She had been vacating her mind just a little bit in the past two days.  If she wasn't careful, Harry was going to think that she was an airhead.

"Excuse me?"  She answered, trying not to look him in the eye.

"You okay?"  Harry said instead.  He decided that Willow was nice enough, but just a little bit on the spacey side.  That probably had more to do with him waking her at five thirty in the morning than anything else.  "Are you sure that you don't want to go back to bed?"

"I'm fine.  Sorry, I'm not really tired, but I'm not awake yet.  I'll be right back."  She headed upstairs to retrieve her laptop.  She had to read the e-mails from the rest of the Scoobies; otherwise they'd get worry at her lack of response.  The _last_ thing she could deal with at the moment was Buffy and/or Xander coming to visit because she hadn't been in the mood to check her e-mails.

When she reached the dining room table, she was shocked to find out two plates of the pancakes already at the table, including real whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and powdered sugar.  Harry entered the room holding two huge glasses of milk.  "That was fast."  Willow spoke, in almost awe.  The pancakes had barely begun cooking when she'd headed upstairs what felt like moments ago.  "Almost like magic."  She added, just to see Harry's reaction.  He nearly tripped over his own feet at the head of the table, but managed to right himself without spilling the milk in his hands.

"Almost."  He answered with a smile that didn't really reach his eyes.

Willow took her seat at her usual seat, which was across the other plate.  She took out her laptop computer and opened it, and connected.  She nearly missed his look of interest.  "Thank the goddess for wireless internet."  Willow shrugged and turned the computer to face him.  "Have a go, trust me.  You couldn't do much more damage to it than I've managed."

She tried to suppress a grin of her own at his look of delight, but failed.  He earnestly began looking over the contraption.  Willow shrugged, knowing that she could check her e-mail later.  She took a bite of the pancake, and wandered away into heaven somewhere.  It was perfect:  not overcooked not undercooked, not too sweet or bitter, and with just the right amount of the individual toppings.  She was instantly won over by her breakfast.  "If I wake up at five thirty every morning…do I always get breakfast this good?"  She joked warmly, feeling immensely better.

"Sure."  Harry answered, dazed by the computer before him.  He was, in fact, not paying overmuch attention to his new roommate.  He was randomly clicking buttons and the keyboard, and everything else his fingers came across.  He found himself in word programs, in games, and on the internet.  Due to his dealings with the Dursleys, he wasn't really an expert at computers.  He hadn't even touched one before, with permission.  He was immediately absorbed by the computer, as Willow absorbed her breakfast.  He clicked on the base menu, a button that looked like an envelope.

Text popped up, and unable to stifle his curiosity, he read.

**_Recently Read Messages:_**

****

**_From:  Oz_**

**_Subject:  Sorry_**

****

**_From:  Xander_**

**_Subject:  Read Oz's first.  If there's not one, call me._**

****

**_From:  Xander_**

**_Subject:  Fault_**

****

**_From:  Xander_**

**_Subject:  [None]_**

****

**_New Messages:_**

****

**_From:  Buffy_**

**_Subject:  Want me to slay?_**

****

**_From:  Cordy_**

**_Subject:  Want me to kill?_**

****

**_From:  Giles_**

**_Subject:  Are you all right?_**

****

**_From:  Xander_**

**_Subject:  Will, answer me, or I'm going there._**

****

Harry clicked on the top message with the cursor, which to his previous delight, followed his fingers.  A new window opened as he clicked.

_To: "__Willow__" RedWitchaol.com_

_From: "Oz" WolfBoyhotmail.com_

_Subject: **Sorry.**_

_Will,_

_I don't know how to say this, so I just will. I was touring with the band, and went to another show on our night off. There was a band, a singer called Veruca. She's a wolf…like me. It was the full moon, and I broke out of my cage._

_Apparently I met her when I was wolfed out. No one got hurt, thank god._

_Willow, she told me things, about being a wolf. How it's in me all the time. She's right. On the next day, I tried to convince her to stay in a cage. I didn't want her to hurt anyone, like I almost have a lot of times. I slept with her to get her to stay, I didn't see any other choice._

_Xander found us, together, on the next morning. I'm sorry __Willow__. I'm leaving Sunnydale for a while. I've got to find a cure for this, and where I'm going probably won't have a computer. I've got to find a cure for this before I can't tell if I'm wolf or man._

_I love you, and I'm sorry._

_Oz._

Several things immediately became clear to Harry.  First of all, he had expertly deduced (a/n:  note the sarcasm) exactly why Willow had been so depressed the night before.  Not only that, but she had been dating a werewolf, which meant that she probably wouldn't be too surprised to find out about magic, or that he learned it.  He guiltily closed out of the program and shut the laptop.

Willow didn't seem to notice his sudden discomfort. She was, indeed entirely absorbed in the last of her breakfast.  She dragged the last triangle of pancake through the chocolate syrup before delightedly finishing her plate.  She took a deep drink of the milk, and left a syrup lip-mark on the glass, to her amusement.  "Wow, you're a _really _good cook.  I can barely assemble a passable sandwich."

"Thanks."  Harry answered and set about obliterating his own breakfast.  "I've had a lot of practice."

Willow tried not to stare while he demolished his breakfast, but she hadn't seen any food disappear that quickly since Jesse and Xander had a contest when they were in eighth grade.  Jesse had won, but both had been ill for the rest of the day.  Willow just tried not to lecture them, knowing that they suffered enough.  She felt an urge to tell him to slow down, but kept her mouth shut.  He could figure out how to eat all by himself.

Harry finished his breakfast within moments and took his plate to the kitchen to begin washing their dishes.  Suddenly, though he'd been rather comfortable with her for most of the morning, he felt awkward.  He didn't know what to say to her.  Part of him wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't say anything about it, because he wasn't supposed to know.  He mentally cursed his own curiosity.  To his surprise, when he washed the dishes, Willow accompanied him to dry them and put them away.

"Thanks."

"Well, you cooked."  Willow shrugged as she put the last of the dishes away.

"I'm gonna go unpack."  Harry spoke after a short uncomfortable silence.  He hurried up to her room, and Willow returned to the dining room, retrieved her laptop and followed him upstairs.  She could check her e-mail just as well in their shared room and maybe knowing that he was there would help her keep her emotions in check.

Harry's face was buried into his trunk—Willow noted, amused—as he began pulling books and clothes from it.  She opened her laptop.  To her surprise, her e-mail account was already open, but minimized.  She opened it and was greeted with Oz's e-mail.  She came to the quick realization that Harry must have stumbled over it when he was playing with her computer.  She took a deep, steadying breath.  Her first reaction was unsuited.  She knew that he probably didn't use computers much in the magical establishment of his school.

In fact, it was probably an accident that he found it at all.  It wouldn't be fair of her to just start yelling at him for something that may well have been a mistake.  She paused for several moments, wondering what she was going to say.  He obviously knew, she should've noticed his slight unease since playing with her computer.  She finally spoke, her tone casual to mask the pain she felt almost too sharply.

"So, Harry…know any werewolves?"

(a/n:  Yay!  I updated.  Yay!  I got a hundred reviews!  Yay!  I learned how to cross stitch, and I'm doing this embroidery thingie.  Yay!  Unfortunately, doing this embroidery thingie hurts my eyes, the stitches are too small. Boo!  And another Boo!  My fingers hurt soooo badly, like they're going to fall off.  I stuck myself a lot with the stupid thingie.  That needle may be dull, but still…poke yourself enough, and ouch.  Hoped y'all liked it!)


	8. Chapter 7

(a/n: Don't hate me: I've been uber busy and thus slightly neglectful of my computer. I still love it, though, and I'm so grateful to everyone for their comments. Thanks especially to Christar, for all your advice and help. I do hope that you enjoy what I've done. I'm not going back to edit, because that's an action that bites me in the ass every time. Well, then. Over one hundred and fifty reviews. Happy dance. Enjoy, all.

Dedication: This is dedicated to Pixie of Chaos, for your birthday. You're old now! Like me! We're old! Yay! Now, let's get a beer….wait…three more bloody years. mumbles Oh, and all to the song "Strangers Like Me" from Tarzan. I can't get enough!!!!)

Chapter Seven of Unexpected Losses

Harry paused at her question, unsure whether or not to answer honestly. Possibilities flashed in his mind. The e-mail may have been in some kind of code. She could be playing some sort of trick on him. The thought that she was some kind of spy from the ministry flashed quickly in his mind before Harry decided to halt all of these thoughts altogether. It was getting ridiculous.

Deciding to lie for now, until he was able to work out the truth about his new roommate, he turned to face her completely. A penetrating stare met his own, and he had to pause. Willow sat on her bed, her feet tucked underneath her. She held her closed laptop protectively in front of her, her arms crossed before it. With a swift movement, she tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

Harry swallowed thickly. He couldn't call forth the lie. He couldn't speak. Something about her stare, her posture, made him want to confess the truth. She hadn't batted an eye at the admission of his name. If she was from the magical world, she had to know his name. It was only logical to think so.

But she knew about werewolves. She knew that he'd read her computer account, somehow, and she was waiting expectantly for his answer. Deciding, once and for all, that he couldn't possibly tell her the truth, he opened his mouth. "Yes." Slipped past his lips before he was able to identify the possibility of the truth admitting itself. She cocked an eyebrow at him, questioningly.

"One." He conceded. "A teacher of mine, a few years ago." Harry paused, then, trying not to flinch at the reaction he knew as coming. She was sure to explode at this, expecting some kind of jaunt or disbelief. He was sure of it, she was going to think he was insane or tell his aunt and uncle of what he said. Nothing good could come of this. Harry decided that he was deeply in trouble.

"A teacher? Isn't that dangerous?" Willow replied, curiosity liberal in her tone.

Her reaction surprised a "Huh?" from Harry, and a look that must've displayed his confusion. This was mostly deduced by Willow's attempt at stifling a giggle.

"Well, a werewolf. That would be a danger, wouldn't it? Since you live at school. Wouldn't having a werewolf running around three nights a month cause problems? Seeing as how he could attack a student without knowing it?" Willow expanded, slightly perplexed.

"Well, that's pretty much why he wasn't allowed to teach anymore. No one knew what he was until the end of the year. He wasn't ever a danger, though, not to the students, anyway. He took the Wolfsbane Potion…" Harry paused, barely recognizing what he was saying, even as he spoke.

He turned and clamored up onto the top bunk, silently telling himself to shut up. He was just digging deeper hole for himself. The last thing he needed to be talking about was Potions. He had all but explained Hogwarts in explicit detail…and so carelessly. Harry resolutely decided that he was going to have to glue his lips shut at the rate he'd been going.

"Wolfsbane Potion?" Willow asked, undeterred by his leaving. She was obviously still sitting in the same place on her bed. Harry didn't answer, thinking that maybe she would let the subject drop if he kept his mouth shut. Unfortunately for Harry, he didn't know her very well. Willow climbed out of bed, and stood on the frame of the bed next to her mattress, propping her chin on his bed. "Wolfsbane?" She added insistently.

Harry carefully avoided looking at her, due to the fact that the redhead had adopted an almost astonishing puppy-dog look that made him want to tell her. With an exaggerated pouting noise from Willow, Harry sighed, defeated. "Wolfsbane." He replied in agreement. "It's a potion that allows a werewolf to retain their mind throughout a transformation."

"Does it work? Can you make it? Do you know how? Have you made one before? What do you need to make it? Can we make one? Is it really hard?" Willow brightened at his answer, and spouted question after question. For a moment, Harry wasn't even sure if he was supposed to answer her.

At her pause to take a breath, she gave him the same, expectant stare that she'd given him before. He realized, then, that he was, indeed, supposed to answer. "Sorry, Willow, but I don't know how to make it. It's too complex. And I don't think that Aunt Petunia regularly keeps potion ingredients in stock."

"Oh." Willow deflated at his negative answer. "But it does work, then?"

"Yeah." Harry answered, hoping that the answer would at least make her feel a little bit better. "But the werewolf has to take it ever day during the transformation. If he misses a day…"

"Are we speaking from experience?" Willow questioned.

"Well, a little bit." Harry answered, and then flushed again. He was going to get expelled from Hogwarts for telling all this to a muggle. He was going to say more, when Willow slipped. Her toes slid off the beam of wood she was precariously balanced on. She fell to the floor with a pained "Ugh."

She stood and climbed onto his bunk to more easily speak to him. By then, he'd figured something out to say, "So, what about you, Willow? Many werewolves where you come from?"

"The only one I've ever _met _is Oz." Willow answered, treading carefully--even in her mind--around the thought of Veruca and the pain it caused. "But since Sunnydale was on a Hellmouth and everything, we did get a whole lot of…interesting characters, I guess."

"A Hellmouth?" Harry returned, glad to have the conversation flowing again…and away from his schooling. "What's that?"

"It's just what it sounds like it is." Willow answered, and despite the words themselves, her tone was anything but derogatory. "It's an actual mouth into Hell. Interesting concept, isn't it? It's a conversion of mystical energies…" She drifted off at the blank look on Harry's face. "Never mind. It's a pretty big demon magnet, though."

"Demon magnet? What kind of demons?"

"Vampires, mostly." Willow answered, enthused about her topic. "We've had a lot of different evils come and try to take over. There was that praying mantis lady who tried to eat Xander…"

"Whoa." Harry answered. "Praying mantis lady?"

"Yeah, and then there was the Order of Taraka, which consisted of these three assassin guys. Which, ironically, involved that one guy who was made _of_ bugs. Also tried to kill Xander." Willow grinned as she spoke, completely missing Harry's awed tones.

"Bug people a big problem there?" Harry asked faintly.

"Not as bad as the vamps, but yeah." Willow giggled.

"Have you ever faced a vampire?"

"A few. Usually I get saved, though. Not that getting saved is a bad thing or anything, 'cause hey…glad to be here and all. I'm not much on the slaying personally. It's safer not to be, ya know, in the middle of all the fighty action. Didn't stop Malcolm, though…" Her tone turned wondering as she drifted off again at her own thoughts.

"Malcolm?" Harry asked. She made his own efforts against Voldemort seem like a walk in the park with her tales. Bug people and vampires? And this Malcolm, who--sure--sounded normal enough, but one never knew…

"Yeah. Malcolm. Guy I met on the computer. Turned out to be a demon on the internet. Started to actually like him, too. Wanted to make me evil queen-like entity person, ya know?" Willow babbled. "Messy breakup…involved him getting stuck in a robot and electrocuted."

"Ah." Harry answered.

"Yeah. Then there was Rayne."

"There's something wrong with _rain_ there?" Harry returned, once more incredulous at her words.

"Not like precipitation 'rain.' Evil, Chaos-worshipping turn-us-into-our-Halloween-costumes Rayne. Ethan Rayne. That kinda Rayne." Willow returned, thinking back to being a ghost for the evening. '_The ghost of…uh…_what_…exactly_?' Giles' voice rang out clearly through her mind, and she had to draw her thoughts back to Harry, who was speaking.

"What did you turn into?" Harry replied, interested despite his own skepticism.

"Oh, I was lucky. I got turned into a ghost. Xander was more interesting. He was dressed up like an army commando guy, and he ended up thinking that he was a soldier. Buffy, that's my other best friend, well, she turned into this eighteenth century maiden. Pretty interesting." Willow giggled, thinking back to the thoroughly confusing holiday. "At least I remembered who I was."

"Wow, sounds intriguing."

"Never boring, that's for sure." Willow answered, fondly. "I think the correct word would be 'confusing,' though."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Harry laughed.

Willow was about to reply, but a beep from below caught her attention. She leaned over to see onto her own bed. Her computer was still on. The muffled, cursory, "You've Got Mail," sounded up at her. "Argh." She reported. Laying on her stomach, she leaned over the edge to pick up her laptop. To her dismay, halfway over the edge, she began to slide forward.

Harry, with his honed seeker reflexes, managed to grab onto her legs, albeit awkwardly. "My hero." She called up, embarrassed and grateful. Harry blushed, but she couldn't see him, as she was hanging upside-down from the edge of his bed. She grabbed her computer and held it in the crook of one arm and paused. "Help?" She managed, weakly.

Harry bit back a laugh and while holding her legs with one arm, stretched out with the other to grab an arm and pull her safely onto the bed. To his amusement, she'd turned bright red. He wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or the blood rushing to her head from hanging, but was willing to bet on the former.

"Uh…thanks, then." She spoke, turning a shade darker. She scooted back to lean against the wall, next to him, and opened her laptop. "Now what?" She clicked on the envelope that blinked on the base bar of her screen. The screen Harry had seen the night before popped up. "Xander." She said fondly, and opened the account.

To: "Willow" 

From: "Xander" 

Subject: **Not goodness here, Wills.**

Hey Wills,

You okay up in Giles-ville? That guy that attacked you showed up again. Very un-staked, too. Same guy, or at least same outfit and accent. He was at your house, too blind to notice the "for sale" sign. He seemed to catch it on his way out. Buffster and I were there, we saw him sneaking in.

Apparently, he finally got the fact that you were gone. Asked about you, but the guy just wasn't polite. We decided that he wasn't good enough for our Willow and we let him down gently. Sort of. Anyway, just wanted to let you know about what's going on. Be on the lookout for any more weird guys in creepy masks.

We miss you, all of us. Giles said he'd e-mail you again but the (and I quote) "Newfangled contraption is worse to put up with than I am." Well…he didn't say "I." He said "You" and he was talking to me…but you get the point. Good to know I'm better than something. I'll e-mail you again. Still waiting for a response, by the way.

Love you,

Xander

P.S. If Harry's as horrible as Vernon, I'm going to kidnap you…you can watch all the magic here that you want to. Even make some. I'm going to go now, Faith is looking at me scary. Research party…why am I here? Help me, Wills!

"Oh. Not goodness." Willow agreed verbally.

"What's that about?" Harry questioned, not wanting to intrude on her privacy but curious to see what her friend had written that entailed "Not Goodness."

"Nothing too important." Willow answered, unsure how to go about the details an admission would present. "Just general stuff. Apparently courting issues." She smiled again at that. "I should probably answer him, though."

"Ah." Harry took the subtle hint for what it was and headed for the door. "I'll be back in a few. Catch the news."

Willow waved as he left, and suppressed a slight feeling of guilt for kicking him off his own bed. She quickly turned to her laptop screen and ignored all feelings of remorse.

__

To: "Xander" 

From: "Willow" 

Subject: **Re: Not goodness here, Wills.**

__

Xander,

Hey. I'm okay. Sort of. Well, not really, but Harry's really nice so I'll survive being here. I'm fine. No sightings of masks or magic shows on this end. Are you sure it was the same guy, not a look-alike? 'Cause, you staked him pretty well and all. Tell everyone that I say hi and that I'm okay.

Which I am. Okay, that is. Thanks for talking to Devon for me.

It's nice to know, I guess. I have to go, though. I kind of kicked Harry out, and I feel a little bit guilty. I chased him to go watch the news_, so I must go save him. I miss you, Xander._

Love you,

Willow.

Willow clicked send and then decided to go and free Harry from the news. When she reached the downstairs of the flat, she was surprised to find Harry kneeling in front of the television, apparently in shock.

"Harry?" She asked him.

"What do you see?" He asked her, almost harshly. Willow walked forward, assuming that he was talking about on the television screen.

"A house." She answered honestly. There was a house, too. It was painted light blue with white shudders on the front. The porch was painted white as well, including a bench swing in front of the house. There was a small flower garden in front of it, with pretty blossoms of various flowers popping up. Then something flashed, shimmering as it disappeared. Three pictures were on the side of the screen. Two adults, male and female, and a teenaged boy. "Three people."

"Over the _house_." Harry interrupted her.

Willow looked again, the same shimmering flash appeared. It seemed to be green, beyond that she couldn't tell. "Something flashed…green?"

Harry did his best not to roll his eyes at her tentative answer. There, floating above the home was the familiar sight of a skull and a snake. The Dark Mark. He'd tuned out the reporter's speech, but focused on the pictures. In the last, the bottommost frame, a familiar face. "Terry Boot." He finally fished out a name for it.

"You…you knew him?" Willow questioned.

"Yeah." Harry managed, swallowing bile. Voldemort or one of his followers had killed the entire Boot family. He shuddered when Willow placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I-I'm sorry." Willow managed, fishing for words. "Did-did it say how they died?"

"Carbon monoxide poisoning." Harry answered automatically. After all, that's what the television reporter had said. But Harry knew better. He could see the Dark Mark as clearly as he could see the house and the picture of his Ravenclaw year mate. This was Voldemort's work.

"I have to go." Harry answered, and ran upstairs to the bathroom where he promptly emptied his stomach. A few minutes later, he emerged, looking far paler than he did when he entered. He went into his room and unlocked Hedwig's cage before turning to his desk and a spare bit of parchment.

He immediately began composing a letter to…Sirius. But Sirius wasn't there to receive it anymore. Tears burned hotly behind his eyes and he suppressed them. This wasn't the time to mourn. Not now. He jumped when a steaming cup and saucer was placed on the desk beside him. Willow blushed furiously at his almost accusational glare.

"I thought it might help your stomach." She admitted. "I'll go, if you want."

"No…no, it's okay." Harry managed to answer. "Thank you." He didn't move to take the tea, though, but turned to the parchment before him. There was nothing Ron or Hermione could do. Tonks or Remus would probably be his best bet for actual information. Harry decided to write to Remus, who was probably the closest thing to a parental figure he had left. Tonks might not share anything beyond what Remus would tell, anyway, and Harry did wonder how Remus was doing.

Partially due to Willow's questioning about the Wolfsbane Potion.

He began to write his letter then, and halfway through realized that Willow remained in the room, silent. Hedwig was now perching on her arm, and Willow was doing her best not to react badly to the close proximity of the owl or upset it into hurting her.

Harry's first reaction was a flare of anger, but it quickly subsided. Most people probably wouldn't be comfortable with a bid of prey taking their arm as a roost. "Hedwig, leave her alone." His voice was soft, and lightly chiding. Amber eyes turned to him, reproachfully, as if speaking in her defense. "You're scaring her."

"I'm n-not scared." Willow answered, her eyes huge, belying her words. "Okay…j-just uncomfortable."

"C'mere, Hedwig. I'm almost done. You up for flying to Moony's?" Harry questioned. She hooted softly, as if consenting, and flew to land on his forearm. He scratched her crest to the owl's obvious pleasure. He moved to sit at the desk once more. Hedwig perched on the edge of it.

In a moment the letter was finished. He tied it to her leg and was about to let her out the window, when his bedroom door burst open with such force that the doorknob was stuck in the opposite wall.

__

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, BOY?"

(a/n: that's all for today. I'm sooo sorry that it took so long to update, but seeing as my computer doesn't ever work at home and I can only update when I'm babysitting (which is once a week) and it takes me up to three weeks to write a single chapter….it's a difficult juggling act.

(I hope that no one's died for lack of this, because I did receive and e-mail. And an e-cookie. Go me! Anyway, enjoy all you peoples who are out there enjoying….I hope…anyway. Review! giggles)


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight of Unexpected Losses

Harry and Willow both flinched at the voice of Vernon Dursley as it filled the room. They shared a glance, and Harry dropped his arm, effectively forcing Hedwig to shoot out the window in an undignified blur of white feathers. Vernon said nothing more for a moment, but fixed his nephew in a glare that chilled even Willow to the bones. She straightened up, then, and noticed that Harry had done the same just before she did.

"I said: What. Do. You. Think. You're. Doing. Boy?" Vernon repeated, punctuating his words as if each was a sentence in and of itself.

"I-I—I was just…" Harry floundered, and Willow came swiftly to the rescue, having formulated an answer, even as the first words fled Vernon Dursley's lips. He stood in the doorway, now, filling it with his immensity, gasping for air as if he'd just run a great distance.

"He was just showing me Hedwig, Mr. Dursley. And you frightened her out the window! I've never seen an owl before. They're not common pets in America. I had asked to see her, and you frightened her into flying away!" Willow made sure to put just a little whine in her voice. Despite having stayed at the Dursley residence for quite some time, he didn't know her that well. He might be thrown off if she pouted at him.

"The bloody bird shouldn't leave its cage." Vernon spoke carefully, obviously weighing his words before he spoke. "It's a menace, and the last thing that we want is the neighbors talking about your—pet (He spat out the word as if it was distasteful)—and the annoyance of it flying about in daylight."

"You can't keep it in its cage all the time!" Willow interjected, sounding surprised. "That could cause a lot of problems for her! It's cruel!"

"It doesn't belong out in day, and that's final. When the bloody bird returns, we'll have it put in _my_ room, where I can control where it goes and when. I thought we'd discussed this, boy." Vernon's words held a razor edge that Willow could neither deny nor define. It sent a shiver down her spine.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon. I was just trying to show Willow…" He tried to explain, but his Uncle's glare simply amplified on him and he fell silent.

"I insisted." Willow added. "He didn't want to. He said that you wouldn't appreciate having her out of her cage, but I've never seen something like her so close before. So I asked Harry to let her out for just a little bit. We weren't planning on having her fly or anything, but when you came in, I think you surprised her." Willow's voice grew quieter as she spoke, and she couldn't hold his glare, but her story was every bit as believable as she could've hoped.

"Right." He finally answered in a tone somewhere between lingering anger and suspicion. "Tell me when the bloody thing is back. Can't have any more _accidents_ happening." Willow shivered at the implication she didn't understand. She and Harry both nodded in unison, but Vernon seemed to be ignoring the American redhead once more.

He turned abruptly on his heel and headed back downstairs again at a more sedate pace than the one with which he'd arrived. Harry and Willow shared a glance then, and Willow stumbled back weakly before sitting on the bottom bunk of the bed, feeling somehow drained.

"Thanks." Harry finally spoke into the silence, surprising Willow with the noise.

"Why did that feel creepier than Moloch?" She replied faintly, recalling the stories she'd only been telling him a few moments before.

"'Cause he's got no excuse to be that creepy? At least that guy was a demon." Harry speculated in a voice that could almost be described as vague.

"Sure. That's probably it." Willow replied, and a giggle escaped her. "So, what's with the angry-ness of your uncle?" Willow finally spoke, wondering why his attitude had turned from cold to violent overnight.

"He doesn't like Hedwig. It's not _natural_ to have an owl for a pet. The neighbors will all talk and blah, blah, blah." Harry answered, rolling his eyes heavily, apparently his mind turned away from the thought of Terry Boot's murder.

"Does he know that you send mail with her?" Willow asked with a tinge of amusement in her tone. Harry gave her a baffled look, as if he hadn't realized that he'd just sent a letter. A look of dawning realization overcame him, and he beamed at her.

"Yeah. That's probably the main reason I'm not allowed to keep her. He doesn't want me to be sending messages to my friends over the summer. Mostly 'cause—."

"'Cause he doesn't like magic?" Willow hazarded in response. Harry turned to her, still looking shocked, and Willow suppressed another giggle at the look on his face. "Come on, Harry, it's a little bit obvious after…I don't know: a day or so. I was trying to watch a David Copperfield wannabe and he glared at me as if he was trying to set me on fire with his eyes. I'm not exactly an idiot, so it was pretty easy to figure it out.

"You went to a school where you found about something called a: Wolfsbane Potion, you had a werewolf for a teacher, and you KNEW about it. Not to mention, you ought to find some sturdier floorboards." Willow finished, again, choking on the laugh at Harry's surprised look. She walked over to her nightstand, opened a drawer, and pulled out one of his books. He took it, and opened it.

"You've been reading it?" He questioned, noting that the pages within looked more like Hermione's books would have than his own, some were dog-eared, but it was obvious that it had been well read. About halfway through the book writing slowly began to appear in the margins in tiny, neat cursive. He shot her a curious glance, and Willow blushed.

"Yeah...sorry about that." She answered, "It's just a habit."

"'The spell malfunctioned in purpose due to lack of wand. Hovering light rather than tip lit.'" Harry read aloud from the margins and the shocked look once more took residence. "You...you _did_ it?" He questioned in a disbelieving voice.

"Well. Yes." Willow admitted. "For the most part, anyway. I mean, everything I tried I got to work, but I didn't try everything. If I had tried everything, not enough time."

"But...but how?" Harry returned. "You can't just pick up a book and start performing spells. You'd have to be a witch, and if you were a witch you'd have a wand and then you'd probably go to some kind of Wizarding School and then you'd probably know who I am and—"

"But I _am _a witch." Willow answered. "I'm practicing Wicca in any case."

"What is 'Wicca'?" Harry answered curiously. It was Willow's turn to look slightly curious at Harry. While she was aware that the Wicca religion wasn't extraordinarily well-known, she expected him (apparently another magic-user) to be aware of its existence.

"Well, Giles explained it as another type of magic. Instead of focusing our magic through a wand, and using the magic within your body we use the magic from the earth itself. I don't use a wand, most importantly. I attempted to do some of the magic in the book. With the _Lumos_ spell though, the objective is to light up the tip of your wand. I wanted to see what would happen if I attempted the spell." Willow did her best to explain.

"Show me." Harry all but cut her off. He stared at her with curiosity burning brightly in emerald eyes. Willow blushed and nodded. She adjusted herself to face him more completely, and by reflex Harry copied her movement and also faced his new roommate.

She closed her eyes in concentration, and held out her hand, palm upwards, and completely flat. She kept her eyes shut for another moment, and opened them, split focus internally and on her hand. "_Lu—_" The door swung inwards and Willow snatched her hand away from Harry, and both teenagers immediately looked away from each other, guiltily. Willow went as far as to scoot as far away from Harry as she could.

Aunt Petunia looked in the room, her gaze caught by the quick, curious movement of her nephew and new charge. "Willow dear, you've got a phone call." She finally said. Willow shot a curious look to her new guardian. The only people who would call her were halfway across the world, and it would be too late there to call. Unless there was an emergency. She shot Harry an apologetic look, and at his nod, she followed Aunt Petunia downstairs and into the kitchen where the phone was.

She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. "Hello?" She questioned quietly.

"Wills are you okay?" Rather than a returned greeting, the familiar voice questioned in a demanding tone.

"Hi Buffy." Willow responded instead, wondering why her friend was calling her when it was quite late in Sunnydale, California. Especially when they had agreed not to use the phone anymore, because regardless of all else, international phone calls were quite expensive for both parties, and the computer was a lot more effective for communication.

"Giles says that there's something going on with a thing and the other thing (I really hadn't been paying that much attention), but it seemed important, so as long as you aren't in any immediate mortal peril, I think it's going to have to wait before I panic." Buffy answered, and then Willow deduced that Giles was there and Buffy's tone was a little more satirical than she had at first made out. She was trying to annoy her Watcher as much as she could in as short a time. A very, very Buffy thing to do.

Willow giggled in response, and distantly heard Giles making a familiar clucking noise with his tongue in the background. "I somehow doubt that I'm in any kind of immediate danger, Buff. Thanks for the concern. Is there anything else you need? I'd really hate to tie up the Dursley's line unnecessarily." Willow snickered as she spoke, knowing that regardless of what she may have said, Buffy wasn't going to finish the conversation before she was ready.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure Wills." Buffy responded, just as Willow would have expected, and the redhead grinned. "How are things?" The blonde's voice was serious again, and Willow knew that her friend was referring to the situation with Oz. Despite partially expecting it, the question burned at her, and she suppressed a wince.

"I think I'm going to manage. Didn't Xander share?" She questioned.

"Yeah, of course, but I wasn't sure if you were being honest or trying to make us feel better. And anyway, I wanted to make sure that you didn't get a visitor in the form of unknown British persons who should by all rights be dead."

Willow immediately understood. "Xander told me. But I haven't seen him at all. Not that I'd recognize him if he wasn't wearing the same thing. It could be anyone if he's not." Buffy made a noise of agreement across the line. "I'm going to go, though, I was talking to Harry, and I think we should finish the conversation."

"You got it Wills. Just stay safe." Buffy answered.

"How'd it go tonight?" Willow questioned, meaning patrol.

"Yeah. Three more tonight." Buffy answered with a smile to her exhaustion-tinged voice.

"Good job. I'll talk to you soon." Willow hung up the phone and turned to leave the room, effectively running smack into the brick wall that took the form of Dudley Dursley. She stepped back a few times, and was once more pinned under the pondering light in Dudley's eyes. Before he had a chance to speak, she slipped around him and fled upstairs into the room she now shared with Harry Potter. He was sitting on his bed again, furiously scribbling onto another piece of parchment. He didn't look up when she entered, though he obviously noted her arrival. She could tell by his quill stopping at her entrance.

He wrote for another few minutes and then set aside whatever he had been writing and looked up at her. "Hi." He greeted her calmly. "Show me."

Willow was slightly surprised that that was all he said, but in a way, it was all she had expected. She climbed up on to his bed again. She sat cross-legged in front of him, and she took a deep breath, nervous. She had gotten the magic to work, but with Harry as an audience she was nervous. What if it didn't work? What if he thought she was a liar? In any case, it didn't seem as if he was going to give her a moment to dwell on it.

She held out her hand in front of her, palm upwards and fingers flat. She met Harry's eyes for a moment before tearing them away and focusing on the power she could feel pulsing from the earth. Ever since she'd left the Hellmouth, her magic had been working nearly flawlessly for her, and she had a feeling that it was the Hellmouth itself that so drastically affected her magic and her control over it. She also wondered if Giles knew of the affect on her magic.

"_Lumos_." She stated clearly, concentrating on her hand. She slowed the flow of her magic, the minutest tug on her magic worked. A small ball of light about the size of a marble hovered over her palm. It gave off a surprising amount of light for its small size, and she had to shield her eyes. After a few seconds, she gave a small tug on the magic, unweaving the spell smoothly. She, of course, could have let the magic collapse on itself, but Giles had told her that it helped with control over her magic to properly unmake her spells.

Harry stared on, slack-jawed. "You...you did magic," was all he managed before silence overcame the room. "Wandless magic....wow."

"Is that bad?" Willow questioned.

Harry shook his head in response. "It's not...bad. It's just not normal. I've done a few bits over the years...but never on purpose."

"But I've only ever used wandless magic. I wasn't aware that there was any other kind until a few months ago. Giles explained it to me before I came here, like I told you before." Willow answered, feeling tenser than she had expected she would.

"Well, _Lumos_ is a generally simple spell to perform. Have you tried any harder spells than that without a wand? What's the biggest magic you've performed?" Harry questioned curiously, thinking of how he had blown his aunt up when she had mocked his family, and of the various other magic he had unwittingly performed: shrinking sweaters, growing his hair out overnight. Most of it had been rather small marks of his magic. But they had rarely been even as much as a _Lumos_ in strength....pardoning his blowing up his aunt, but that was still not a whole lot stronger.

"Well, I kind of re-souled a vampire." Willow answered in a quiet voice. "It was a gypsy curse." She would have continued babbling as she sometimes had a habit of doing but not for the stunned look with which Harry regarded her. Slack-jawed, slightly buggy-eyed, and in awe, Harry looked altogether ridiculous. Willow suppressed a snicker at his befuddled look.

"What?!" was all he managed to say before falling silent again. "You...you what?!"

"A vampire, Angelus...I gave him back his soul." Willow answered distractedly, not used to telling people about the magic she'd performed. Everyone who she would tell of this accomplishment already knew. Telling someone who could make judgment on her that wasn't already aware was a difficult thing to do. Especially to someone like Harry who was a stranger to her...but he was also a wizard. And Willow really felt that she could relate to him. She felt as if she could trust him. And so she did.

"You gave a vampire a soul. I've never heard of anything like that. And without a wand...was there a spell?" Harry wondered if this was how Hermione felt when something caught her curiosity. He wanted to know every detail of every spell Willow had performed. He wanted to know why she had performed such a spell, and how she had discovered a teacher that could show how to do such a spell. And if it had not been a teacher that showed her such a spell, he wondered where she gotten hold of it.

"Yeah, there was a spell." Willow said quietly, thinking of Ms. Calendar. She had been relatively close to the teacher and the thought of her demise was still painful. "It had been cast on him before....and it was removed she said the word delicately and I had to replace it. Without his soul he was a killer...tried to have the world swallowed by Acathla."

"What's an 'Acathla'?" Harry questioned in response.

"Um...as far as I know, it's a world-swallowing statue-demon." Willow responded, uncomfortable under Harry's interrogation. Because she was being so thoroughly questioned, she decided it was only fair to have her own questions answered, so without as much as a preamble, she turned the tables against Harry. "So...what killed Terry Boot?"

Harry glared up at the questioned, not expected the redheaded....pseudo-witch (?) before him to be as sharp as she was. "Carbon mono—"

"Harry, why are you lying?" Willow's statement was calm, and Harry flinched at it. It was hard enough lying to the girl with some evidence (however false) to back him up. The news even said it was carbon-monoxide poisoning. But Willow wasn't buying it, and he couldn't lie well enough to convince her that it was the truth. Not if she challenged him.

"Voldemort." He said instead. "It was Voldemort?"

"Which is?" Willow returned, her brow slightly creased in her confusion.

"Who is." Harry corrected. "He's a wizard." Harry choked on the last word. Willow assumed that her new roommate felt that this "Voldemort" didn't deserve the title. "He's a murderer. He killed my parents." Tears burned emerald eyes as he spoke.

"Goddess, Harry, that's awful."

"He's a monster. He's the one who killed Terry Boot. Or, moreover, the Death Eaters did. Those are his followers (he expanded at Willow's baffled look). He wants to purge the bloodlines of impurities, kill all muggle-born witches and wizards and halfbloods. My mother was a muggle-born."

"What's a muggle?" Willow asked quietly.

"A regular person, someone without magic." Harry answered, with barely a pause. "Voldemort doesn't like the idea of bloodlines thinning or something."

"Does it affect their magic?" Willow questioned.

"I don't think so. One of the best witches I've ever known is a muggle-born. I've never seen her mess up a spell." Harry answered, thinking momentarily about Hermione. And then he thought of Neville, a pureblooded wizard who could barely get anything right at all without a great deal of time, effort, and practice. "I'm almost sure it makes no difference."

"Then why does he want to do it?"

"I don't know." Harry answered shortly, and Willow took the hint that the time for questions was over and climbed off his bed and sat on her own, picking up and hugging her pillow tightly. This was becoming confusing.

(a/n: uhh, please don't kill me? It's now Christmas break, and I finally have the time to get some writing done. I've just been through my very first semester of college ever, and I didn't do extraordinarily well, despite the fact that study was nearly all that I did. Hence the lack of writing. I haven't been able to sit down and work on this at all in the past few months, and while I'm desperately sorry for that as much as for myself as for you, there wasn't much I could do about it. Merry Christmas everyone, and I hope you've enjoyed this. Due to my break, and the constant rain keeping my booty in the house for at least a little while, I'm going to try to get as much done of this before I head back to school. My next semester is going to be even harder. Please review, even if all you want to do is yell at me for my lack of updating in ever.)


	10. Chapter 9

(a/n: Hey...genius drug woman. ((You know who you are, Ms. Pixie...or would that be that Mrs. Sir Lenny! Lady Lenny! wink)) I totally left my cell phone at home, so if you wanna call me, use my dorm number if you don't have it or don't remember it, e-mail me. Everyone else: Yeah. I was right. This semester is harder. I've already written a paper, and another one is due soon (and I still haven't thought of a topic). Everything is crazy, and I've recently lost my ability to know which direction is up. ((sigh)). Stupid College. Stupid boys that I stupidly have to stupidly like. Stupid. grumbles. ((sigh)).

Thank y'all for reviewing and making me feel so guilty I _had_ to update, regardless of the fact that I really, really need to be studying Psychology.

This chapter is dedicated to the faboo and extra fantabulous Christar (who is wonderful and helps me especially when I really, really need it without making me feel like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. And who takes lots and lots of time to actually _help_ me, even when I'm sometimes too stubborn to just take her bloody good advice oh, and by the way, you, stop making guesses. You're too right . )

To the previously mentioned Lady Lenny (who I love dearly and thus must mock and who helps me make sense of the stupid, stupid boys that I stupidly have to stupidly like. giggles))

And to The Dearest Lady, Brittany Nicole my wife person (who let's me keep her sort of plaid soul in a fishbowl, and who is my life-saver and not in the creepy candy way, and ooh! OOOH! I CALL IT! Mwahahaha! sigh) I keep digging deeper holes.) Right. And for anyone who didn't understand that last one...don't worry about it. I'm just insane.

Chapter Nine of Unexpected Losses

There was a new tenseness between Willow and Harry. They hadn't known each other long, but each was a sort of safety (from the Dursley family) for the other. Not that the Dursleys were so much as unkind to Willow (Vernon's coldness excluded), but she felt Harry as some kind of normalcy after living on a Hellmouth for her entire life. The Dursleys were just..._too_ normal, which was weird to the redhead. Normal wasn't done...it wasn't, well, normal. And thanks to the session of "sharing" they were both uncomfortable. Willow felt as if she'd pried too deeply into Harry's life (especially in bringing up the death of his parents, a burn she was still aching over in her own life). Harry, on the other hand, felt that he was too harsh about his reactions to her curiosity (even though he probably wouldn't–or couldn't—change his reaction to those questions).

It had been three days since their conversation and the death of Terry Boot. Three days in which tensions built up to a breaking point, a tension so thick that it felt as if no one in the house was unaffected by. Petunia was flighty and nervous, never able to keep still. Vernon tended to lose his temper more quickly than before, and he left for work earlier and came home later in the evening, before eating a deeply uncomfortable dinner with everyone and stomping up to his bedroom. Willow reverted to the shy girl she'd been before ever meeting Buffy. She barely spoke to anyone, and kept her nose buried in books. Harry was tense, and was on a constant alert, obviously thinking something was going to go wrong. Dudley, however, seemed immune to all of this. He mostly wasn't home, though, and tended to go hang over at his friend's homes. When he was home, Willow couldn't explain the fact that she became even more unnerved. It might've been the presence of another person...but whatever it was, it was becoming more defined.

This led Willow to spend a little time possible outside of the room she shared with Harry. And Harry seemed to be there just as often, usually looking out the windows, anticipating Hedwig's return. Willow wanted to ask him if the white owl's flights always took this long, but was still too nervous to talk to him. This thick-tensioned monotony continued on until December 24th. The day before Christmas. And it was then that Willow received a surprise.

It had all started innocently enough. A knock on the door. Vernon was still at work at the time, and Dudley was out once more. Harry and Willow were both cooped up in his room. Harry was at his desk, doing some light homework. Willow, despite her slight discomfort, was reading over his shoulder out of pure curiosity. When Harry finally realized this, he moved over a bit so she could read at a more comfortable angle. This seemed to break whatever it was that had been built between them. In fact, Harry's mouth was open to speak when Petunia opened the door.

"Yes, ma'am?" Willow asked, politely, only slightly annoyed to be interrupted. Too well-mannered to be anything but entirely courteous, she smiled warmly at her "aunt."

"Willow...it seems that you have a visitor." Petunia's voice was every bit as polite as her goddaughter's had been, but it was obvious that she disapproved of Willow's guest being unannounced. She didn't notice, then, as Willow blanched, thinking that her caller had to have been the man in the mask that had tried to attack her back in Sunnydale. Buffy and Xander had both told her to be careful, and she meant to be. But how careful could one be when their attacker is showing up at their home? Willow headed downstairs, trying to think of any quick spell (offensive or defensive, she didn't care) she could use in case it was her masked assailant.

She stepped into the parlor, where she knew the ever-proper Aunt Petunia would have put her guest. Entering the room her heart stopped in pure, unadulterated shock.

Harry watched as Willow left the room, pale as a ghost. He didn't know what she was suddenly so terrified of, but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to attempt to help her. He followed her to the stairwell, ignoring a look from his Aunt. She apparently disapproved of his going after Willow. She headed past him into the kitchen without as much as a word to either of the teenagers. Harry guessed that she was going to attempt to put out tea for Willow's guest. The redhead was already down the stairs.

As he had expected her to do, she entered the parlor. A moment later, she backed out of it, hand to her mouth, eyes wide with disbelief. Harry pulled his wand from his pocket. Ministry-laws-be-damned. If his friend was in trouble, he was going to help her. Regardless of any consequence. He started down the stairs, wand ready, with the Latin words that would trigger a curse ready at his lips. That is, until Willow fainted.

Willow groaned. What had she hit? Or, rather, what had hit her? It was apparently very, very large. She was being delusional. Maybe she'd been dreaming, and she was just coincidentally waking up with a headache the size of Canada. She managed to crack one hazel eye, and spotted a worried Harry. "Wha-what happened?" She managed, swallowing thickly at her dry mouth.

"You fainted." Harry answered in response, raising an eyebrow at her, as if surprised at her question.

"Yeah. I mean, I know I'm about as good as it gets in the realm of awesomeness, but I didn't think you'd pass out at me." Another voice answered. Willow knew that voice better than she knew her own. Better than she knew her parents. Hazel eyes shot open all at once, as she flung herself at her best friend in the world. "Heya, Wills. Merry Christmas."

"Alexander Harris." She said sternly, tears in her eyes, as she continued to hug him. "You are going to give me a heart attack one of these days, and I'm going to kill you for it." She finally let him go, before they simultaneously pulled each other into another bear hug. Willow reveled in the feeling of being back in the arms of her best friend...someone who just a few months ago she was terrified she wouldn't see for years.

"Aw, you know you love me too much to kill me." Xander answered with big puppy-dog eyes, and Willow grinned at him. "See? Yay for me."

"Uh...Willow?" Harry spoke, obviously waiting to be introduced to this new character.

"Oh! Sorry, Harry. Alexander 'Xander' Harris, meet my new bunkmate, Harry Potter. Harry, meet my best friend, Xander, who should (by all accounts) still be in Sunnydale, California." Willow was obviously to a bursting point of joy. She couldn't make herself stop grinning no matter how hard she tried.

"Well, we had to surprise you for Christmas, and sending packages this far away is just _so_ expensive. So we sent the best thing: Xander and the dance of Christmas-y joy." The curly-haired brunette boy grinned at Willow, who immediately pictured her best friend doing the "Snoopy Dance" to cheer her up, as he'd done so many times before..

"Xander, this is just...amazing." Willow hugged him again, as if attempting to determine that he was really there. Xander, understanding this, just grinned, just as glad to be in the companionship of Willow once more.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, I couldn't resist an opportunity to come to the land of Giles-y tweed, now could I?" He answered, and Willow laughed openly at the comment that Harry decided he wasn't supposed to understand. He merely hoped that his home country wasn't being too badly mocked by an American who said things like "the dance of Christmas-y joy." The three were up in Harry-and-Willow's bedroom. After Willow'd fainted, he'd managed to rush down the bottom few steps to catch her before she cracked her skull open on Aunt Petunia's pristine, tiled floor.. Unfortunately, he'd been ill prepared to take on the extra dead weight, and was saved from falling by himself from Xander, who'd swiftly grabbed one of Willow's arms (thus alleviating some of the weight from Harry). The pair had managed to get her upstairs, and had barely placed her in her bed before she'd woken up.

"Where are you staying, Xan?" She reasonably asked, wondering how he'd managed to get the money for a plane ticket, much less a place to stay for...well...so much as a night. He didn't have a job, and his parents would probably die laughing if he'd asked money from them. Before probably beating the stuffing out of him for his assumption that they would ever give him some as valuable as money.

"Oh, don't you worry about me, Wills. I've got a place to stay. And I'm going to be here for three days! So, when do I kidnap you tomorrow?" Xander questioned.

"It'd probably be rude to leave in the morning, so I suppose leaving in the afternoon is the best idea." The way Willow spoke, it was obvious that she wasn't answering Xander so much as she was thinking aloud. "I should probably ask Aunt Petunia about it first, though, because I wouldn't want her to make too much food if I'm not going to be here...maybe you should come for dinner!"

"Nope, Wills, you're coming with me." Xander replied easily, a glint in his eye that Willow took to mean that he had already had plans and that she would either like enormously, or that he was suppressing the urge to tickle her into an oblivious inarguable state. Rather nervous about this second one coming true. Willow edged away. Xander merely gave her his best innocent I'm-not-doing-anything gaze before reaching out, and firmly, but softly, pressing his fingers into her sides. Laughter tore from the redhead's mouth, as she curled up into a fetal position in attempts to spare herself from Xander's well-practiced fingers.

"On Christmas Day?" Aunt Petunia looked affronted at the very idea. Willow stood firm, though. "Are you sure it couldn't wait until the day after?"

"No, ma'am. That's the day Xander is heading home, and as expensive as it is for him to come visit me, I'm going to insist upon it, if it's alright. I really would like to spend the day with him. And I don't celebrate Christmas, Aunt Petunia, I'm Jewish." 'Not all of us worship Santa.' Her mind added for her, but the redhead had a suspicion that Petunia wouldn't share in the humor.

"Very well, then." The older woman acquiesced, nodding once. "But please don't leave until after noon."

"Of course, I wouldn't want to disrupt your Christmas morning." Willow answered honestly. "But thank you."

"You're welcome, Willow. Now, it's probably time for bed, tomorrow is going to be a big day for everyone, and I'm sure you'd like to be nice and rested for your visit with Alexander tomorrow." Willow nodded in reply, shrugging off how odd it was to hear Xander's whole name from anyone pardoning herself and Xander's mother. When he was in trouble. Then again, she thought, it would be far weirder to hear the respectable woman address him as "Xander."

Upon reaching her room, she was greeted with the sight of Harry being apparently mauled by three owls – none of them Hedwig. It wasn't until she heard him snicker under his breath that she relaxed. "Pig! You have to come _down_ here if you want me to take the package from you!" The small bird was attempting to help a larger owl hold a huge package. The bigger bird obviously wished to descend, but the smaller bird (stronger than it looked) was far more contented to flap about the ceiling. It wasn't until Harry spoke to it that it slowed its frantic circles. The third owl stood elegantly on Harry's desk, eating what Willow had been informed was an owl treat. It drank from a small bowl of water. It hooted smartly, giving what Willow would have attributed as a bow from any other animal, before gliding out the window.

"See, Pig. That's how you ought to behave." Harry addressed the smaller owl again (Willow puzzled why such a tiny bird would be called Pig, but kept her comments to herself). The animal seemed to be insulted at his comment, and finally headed towards Harry's desk. "Thank you, Pig!" The small animal puffed itself up proudly and Willow had to suppress an image of the other owl rolling its eyes. "Both of you can take a drink and a snack if you'd like. And would you mind bringing these back to the Weasleys?"

He gave the owls a package almost as large as the one that'd been delivered. With an appraising eye, the first owl cooperated as much as it was able. Pig, however, took to zooming around the ceiling, until quick-as-lighting, Harry reached up a hand and caught the bugger. "You're going to take this back to Ron, Pig." His voice was entirely serious, and within a few (only semi-hectic) moments, the two were off again.

"Christmas fun?" Willow joked.

"Yeah. Presents for Ron and some of his family." Harry answered. "What could be more fun than a hyperactive owl and its oh-so-tortured owl-sitter?" Willow giggled at his statement, and a short while later, both were situated in bed.

Christmas morning seemed to drag on for hours...well, since it technically _did_ drag on for hours, Willow supposed that it felt like it dragged on for more hours than it did. Dudley was given a huge number of (rather expensive) presents. Harry was given a few gifts that were entirely unsuited to the boy, but he gave the impression that he was very grateful towards the Dursleys anyway. Willow received a new thick, blank scrapbook and a mountain of supplies for it. She'd filled the last one, and had been planning to buy another because of the mass of pictures she had left. She'd told Petunia the fact, as well, and she'd promised to take the girl out to get supplies, but had been unable. She nearly cried at the sight of it, extremely pleased that her godmother had remembered over the course of the months how much she'd wanted to make a second book. Aunt Petunia evidently put a lot of thought into what Willow might need, nothing (even frivolous things that Willow might have lusted after, but wouldn't have bought) wasn't there for her use if she wished to make good of them.

After a gorgeous brunch that Petunia set up for the family, Willow waited excitedly for Xander to arrive. This would be one time that'd be on time picking her up, and she was ready (oh, so ready) to spend time with him again. She was even still in a light disbelief that he was even there. How had he managed to afford the trip over? Where'd he get the money? Willow ventured a few guesses, but none really fit entirely. She, thus, planned to ask him the second he came through the door, regardless of however impolite it might seem to the Dursleys.

This plan was immediately forgotten when Xander arrived. After another period of hugging, they headed out. Willow almost asked Xander to stay when she saw Harry silently slink up the stairs as they headed out, but her excitement overwhelmed what may have been concern for her friend. The two Scoobies headed towards the car Xander had obviously driven there. Both of them erupted into laughter when they took a seat on the wrong side of the car. After fixing the situation, Xander started driving.

They chatted amiably and Willow found that she was thoroughly uncaring of where they went, so long as she got to spend time with Xander on the way. "Hey, Wills, we're gonna go ahead and go back to my hotel. I left your present there. 'Kay?"

"Sure, Xan." Willow answered giddily, wondering what more he could possibly give her. "I kinda already mailed your present to Sunnydale." Willow added as an afterthought, and Xander grinned. Unbeknownst to Willow, Xander's thoughts weren't focused on any kind of present that he was going to receive, but on the present that he was about to show to Willow. If she didn't have a heart attack, she was going to kill him for not giving it to her earlier.

Willow was shocked when they pulled into the driveway of an actual home, not some kind of hotel. Xander opened the door for Willow, and opened the door for her. She stepped out numbly, staring at the small, but very cozy home before her. Xander led her inside and opened the door for her. Inside the first was the living room. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and to her surprise, there was someone on the couch enjoying it. Someone whose back-of-head wasn't familiar to Willow.

It was a brutal shock, though, when the figure turned and stood. Willow struggled for breath at the sight of the familiar mask; she stumbled back a few steps and fell against the corner of the front wall and a wall separating the front room and another. She reached out, and accidentally pulled Xander down with her, and the other boy did his best to get between Willow and the haunting figure. It wasn't an easy action seeing as how they were both on the floor, but he did his best in any case.

"You." A cold voice spoke...but not a male's...and a familiar one at that. "What do you think you're doing here? Get away from them." A small dagger whizzed across the room, skimming the masked man's arm before imbedding in the opposite wall. He immediately, grabbed the wound, a reflex, and left himself vulnerable for another attack. "I won't miss again." The icy voice was obviously speaking in promise (as proven by a glint from the firelight on another weapon), and everyone in the room realized it. And the man disappeared much like he had months and months ago in Willow's old home.

Willow-and-Xander's hero walked into the firelight, but Willow hadn't needed her to. She'd know that voice anywhere. She struggled to stand once more. "Buffy!" Willow practically flew across the room. Buffy did the same, and they crashed into one another (nearly falling over) in a hug that left both of them breathless. "Buffy, you're here, too."

"Hey Wills!" Buffy answered with just as much enthusiasm as her best friend. "Didja miss me?" She gave an impish smile to her best friend, knowing that Willow had, of coursed, missed her.

"Nope." Willow teased the blonde in turn.

"Well, then, I hope that you might've missed me just a bit." This last was the last that Willow could take. Just as she'd expected, there was Giles standing behind her, a familiar lopsided smile ready for the redhead. A man that was more father to Willow in two years than her biological father had been in seventeen, and Willow reached out, almost blindly, and clung to him tightly. "Shall I take that as a yes, then?"

It wasn't long before all of them were sitting. Willow, finally nestled nearest to the family she made herself, burst into tears soon after. A mix of happiness, the loneliness she hadn't realized she'd been suffering leaving, and a hundred other factors, some she couldn't even name, was the source of her tears. Thankfully, everyone understood, and for the first time in a long time, Willow was just held.

"So, what's going on in Sunnydale, and how were all of you able to get over here...who's doing the Slay thing?" Willow asked a couple of hours later, after regaining control of herself.

"Faith is." Buffy answered. "She's probably also keeping my mom company."

"Oh...did she not want you to come over on Christmas?" Willow asked in a somewhat small voice.

"Oh, as soon as she knew it was for you, she was glad to let me go. But I asked Faith to stop by...had to make sure that she didn't get lonely. Besides, I think that it's good for Faith, too. She seems lonely." Buffy answered, thinking of the only other Slayer on the planet. "But enough about Faith. We're here for the you-ness that is Willow."

"And I'm still kinda a little bit stunned that you are. Whose home is this?"

"That would be mine." Giles answered. "I lived here long before the Council sent me to Sunnydale."

"This place is beautiful." Willow replied.

"And you'll have the keys to it. Any time you'd like to stay here, you're welcome to this place any time you'd like to come." Giles answered, and Willow was left at a loss once more.

"Thanks, Giles."

"Consider it a Sunnydale away from home." Giles answered. "Oh, yes, and we do have something else for you...but it's not a person this time."

Willow, wondering wildly what on earth they could give her that could possibly make this day better, was led by Buffy down the hall. Xander covered her eyes tightly with his hands. Giles opened the door (though Willow couldn't see this), and Willow was led into another room. Willow was very glad Xander was behind her when she was able to open her eyes, because the room swirled around her, and she stumbled backwards, in the second faint in as many days.

(a/n: sigh I _so_ should be studying Psychology. You people are bad for my major. .)


	11. Chapter 10

((a/n: Yeah. I've decided to update before every test I think I'll do badly on, then. I have one tomorrow. Lucky for you. As it turns out, on my last test (when I posted this) I got my highest grade ever for that class. Usually I'd just think that it was my studying that did it, but I have a new view. This is how I figure it works. I write and post. You read and leave those reviews that leave me feeling all fuzzy and confident. And in my review-induced euphoria I'm fearless in the testing world, where I then proceed to kick ass. Thus...review, and help me pass Anthropology. Different subject, but I'm hoping that it doesn't really matter for that front...does it!

(This chapter is dedicated to the following people: _IsiwaruOfCkaloatia_ (thank you for waiting patiently, and while I think your name is gorgeous, I don't think I'd ever be able to spell it on my own...woot for copy & paste. Oh...and please resume breathing if you haven't already), _datajana_, _Pamie884_ (I'm glad that you enjoyed it, and I'm sorry I made you cry? I swear I didn't mean to), _Mama T_, _Laroseminuit _(better advice I've ever heard), _Enjael1_, _scifimimi_, _Nixinox_, _Linauri _(as pleased as your review made me I blushed and everything! please don't ignore your schoolwork for my story. Especially midterms)_, ladyofthedragons1_ (I updated as soon as I could! Hope you enjoy), _carribeanprincess_, _Catsie Hunter, TallieCat_, _Vampyre Moon, Damia _(who continues to be bad for my major, hee. I adore your reviews. I always do. I wish to give you a cookie.), _Zork the Unbearable _(rarely am I so amused by a review. Hee. Thank you for that laugh, I needed it. I hope you enjoy.), _sweetypie15_, _DruWentToBermuda_, _Ridea, scamperdoodles14 _(again, this was a review I enjoyed! Your name made me giggle!) _Ezmerelda _(Hiya! Glad to see you've stuck around. I hope that you like where I'm going and where I've been. And...just...everything! Enjoy the chapter!)

Once more _Christar Larae _who has a beautiful name deserves special mention for just being entirely wonderful to my story and me. Hee. I wish you a cookie as well and probably a hug or two. And lots of chocolate.

Thanks to Lady Lenny, who needs to read this before I cry. Thanks to my beautiful, very sexxeh wife Lady Nicole, who has my soul and who is a fellow lover of grape juice. Make sure you get your daily vitamins of l, o, v, and e. And...woot.))

(I'm sure you're all sick of my ramblings. Enjoy the chapter. And I own nothing but the idea. Don't touch it, it's mine. Mwahahaha.)

Unexpected Losses

Chapter Ten

Willow woke again with a splitting headache. She was getting used to and sick of this new habit even more quickly that it had evolved. She wasn't used to fainting spells. She wasn't so fragile as to be unable to handle herself. She had lived on the Hellmouth, damn it, and had re-souled a bloody vampire, and she was _not_ going to be falling over at the slightest sign of something odd. Her eyes finally fluttered open, and realized that she was in her bedroom. Not the bed room she shared with Harry. But her own bedroom. The one she had in Sunnydale. _Hers_.

For a moment. A blissful moment she believed that she was back home again. Back safe. Where she had been reared. Where she belonged. But then she saw Giles. It wasn't his mere appearance that broke reality for her; it was the changes in it. He seemed...tired. Worried, though about more than Willow's immediate safety. He sat more stooped than he used to, as if the weight of his worries was literally on his back. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes and took a sip of tea. Rather than directly speak to him, Willow looked around her room.

Whoever had done it, Willow expected that Buffy and Xander were the main (if not only) contributors, they had done their research. Nothing was out of place. They had reconstructed her room. Perfectly. From her sheets to her desk, everything was in its proper place. It was a beautiful thing to see. As hazel eyes swept across the room, a wave of homesickness attacked her. She'd been busy...too busy. It had built up on her while she was so busy learning. And now all that pain descended on her. Stuffing back tears (Willow never was one to cry), she sat up.

Her movement drew Giles' attention to her, and she smiled wanly at him. "It's beautiful."

Giles knew instantaneously that she was speaking of the room around them. "I know that moving to another country is hard." Giles answered, and Willow nodded in agreement. To her own chagrin, she had forgotten that only a few years before Giles came from his homeland to be given a rather lukewarm reception in Sunnydale, California. He would understand what she was going through. Maybe he hadn't felt it as badly as she had (she had lost her parent and her friends and her home, whereas Giles lost only his home), but he could relate, and Willow appreciated it. "We were all hoping that if you had this, you'd feel less homesick."

"I'm sure I will. Maybe I could come here on the afternoons. I'm not sure Aunt Petunia would like me staying over too often, especially if she thinks I'm alone." Willow said this last with a spark of mischief and Giles decided that he didn't want to know what she was hinting at. He cleared his throat. Willow laughed at that, knowing that she had made her former-librarian uncomfortable. The door opened.

"I heard Willow-laughter." Xander reported as he and Buffy came into the room.

"I was just dragged here." Buffy tagged to the end of Xander's report. "I'm innocent."

"Lies." Willow giggled back, as her two best friends hopped onto her bed with her. _Her_ bed, she realized, noting its familiarity. "How'd you guys manage to get this here? I mean...this isn't a little bit of stuff. This is like...my bedroom."

"Yes. Yes, it is." Buffy answered in a voice so serious, both of the girls cracked grins. "Well, we put it on a plane, moved it in, and then planned our vicious assault of the Willow when we finally got her here." The statement was dead serious. Willow's eyes widened and she scooted away. Xander took on the same expression as he had the night before. Buffy, with her entirely unfair use of Slayer abilities, managed to hold Willow down, knowing fingers deftly attacked every familiar spot. Willow shrieked in laughter.

"Giles! Help! Get them off of me!" Willow cried out in between peals of laughter, and the Watcher, finally taking pity on the witch, helped Xander and Willow revert the attack to Buffy. After a few minutes, though, their attack ceased as Buffy single-handedly managed to get all three off of her.

"Why can't I do that?" Willow complained in mock-depression.

"Because you are not the Chosen one." Buffy answered the same mocking attitude. "You were not given the power to"

"Blah, blah evil, blah, blah, vampires, blah, blah who wants pizza?" Xander interrupted to Giles' amusement. He himself had been interrupted similarly when dealing with Buffy for the first time. Buffy's eyes narrowed remembering her own attitude when she was dealing for the first time with her second watcher. "Pizza." Xander said again, insistently.

"Where do you plan on getting pizza on Christmas at this time?" Willow interrupted rationally.

"Don't care." Xander answered with a grin.

"I'm sure you don't." Giles smirked in return with a humor none of the teenagers understood. When Giles came to the realization that none of them were to share in his joke, he cleared his throat. "Why don't you make your own?"

"Make our own!" Xander repeated as if he was the one to come up with the idea. "Think you have all the stuff, G-Man?"

"How many times must I insist that you stop calling me that, Xander?" Giles asked in a hopeless tone that reduced Willow into giddy giggles that had been threatening to break loose since Xander had greeted her the day before.

"Couple hundred more." Xander answered mockingly, bowing slightly before the older man, who merely rolled his eyes.

"About time I get the respect I deserve around here." He said rather stuffily to the amusement of the three teenagers, before he left the room, presumably to check to see if he had the ingredients so that Xander could have his pizza. He was surprised that he had missed Willow as much as he had. She was like a daughter to him, but seeing her reminded him exactly how different Sunnydale was without her laughter and her babbles.

The kitchen was surprisingly stocked; Buffy and Xander had all but dragged him to the store to pick up every food Willow had ever liked. He knew that the chances were that among the lot of it, there would be proper ingredients for pizza, but he wanted to give the teenagers he considered his children a bit of time together. And he wanted his time with Willow, as well. But that could wait for a short while.

After rummaging around the cabinets a short while, Willow entered the room, alone. She watched as Giles cradled another cup of tea, his back to her. "Hi Giles." She greeted him. He put down his tea and opened his arms, inviting the redhead into another hug. She gladly complied. "How're you doing?"

"I believe that things are going well...or as well as things can be in Sunnydale, anyway." He answered her. "Are you doing alright here?"

"Yeah." Willow answered. "Harry and I get along well enough. He kind of found out about my being a Wicca."

"Willow, that's extremely dangerous—" Giles broke through her speaking in a somewhat worried tone.

"He practices your magic." Willow interrupted him. "I found his school books under a floorboard in our room. I've been practicing his magic, Giles, and I can do it."

"Willow!" Giles gasped in shock. "Practicing magic that is unsuited to you isn't a wise decision."

"But it is. It was easier than any Wiccan spell I've ever attempted to use. It told me the theory of magic as well as what the spells are. I'm already into the third-year books. And I'm not going to stop. I have a better handle on this kind of magic and there's absolutely no reason that I shouldn't use it."

"Except that it has an even greater chance of being miscast and causing problems. Without supervision, it's even more dangerous." Giles lectured her, and almost absently thought that he even missed lecturing the girl.

"Giles." Willow replied softly. "I'm not going to stop practicing this magic. My spells are stronger, and not one's gone wonky since I left the Hellmouth. Not even my usual Wiccan spells. I'm not weak. And I know what I'm doing. And I'm scared." The admission wasn't an easy one to make, but it was honest. Giles softened his rather hard demeanor at her words. "That man is still trying to find me. I need to be prepared to fight him."

"I understand your concern, Willow. But I just wish that I could make sure that you're safe doing this magic." Giles answered her.

"You know, or that I could just slay the oogy guy." Buffy added from the kitchen doorway.

"That'd be nice." Willow replied.

"Well, then. Pizza stuff, G-Man?" Xander questioned, throwing an arm around each Willow and Buffy.

"Xander, I swear..."

"Thatta yes?" Xander replied swiftly before looking into the refrigerator to find out the answer for himself.

"Yes, Xander." Giles answered, squeezing the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger, holding his glasses in the other hand.

"Yay, pizza." Xander answered, not looking at the older man, but rather speaking directly into a crisper, where several ingredients they needed resided. Pulling out everything that he knew he needed, he placed them on the counter. Giles sighed audibly at that, and sorted everything neatly so nothing would be damaged from the pile.

"So, that Aunt Flower lady seemed unpleasant, is she okay?"

"Petunia." Willow automatically corrected Xander, despite the fact that she knew he couldn't have cared less what the woman's name. "Aunt Petunia is fine. Vernon pretty much ignores me wholly. Dudley doesn't even seem to realize that I'm there half of the time. But Harry's great. We get along very well. It's nice to have an ally there."

"Do you need one?" Buffy asked suddenly, to Willow's surprise.

"I don't think that having an ally could hurt right now, and I'm not talking about the Dursleys. I'm talking about that guy."

"Yes, I'm actually going to attempt to speak to someone in the ministry about all of this." Giles answered his supervision of Xander's food adventure. "I'm going to see what's going on. I'm very disturbed by this man's attack, and I need to find out if the Ministry has any idea about what's going on with the situation."

"Thank you, Giles." Willow answered.

"I only wish that I'd seen him so I could aptly describe him." Giles replied. A scholarly interest laced his voice, and Willow easily recognized it, having used it many times in her own life.

"No you don't." Buffy interrupted, eyes glinting. "You do not wanna see this guy, and neither do I. Ever. But I have a feeling our oogies at seeing him aren't going to affect him very badly. If anything it'll please the guy. Much with the creepy."

"If it helps any, I concur." Willow answered.

"Thank you, Willow." Giles said dryly.

"Pizza." Xander interrupted the blooming argument with dead calm.

"Yes, Xander, you'll be fed." Willow giggled. "But I'm not cooking."

"I'm sure we're all glad to hear that one, Wills." Xander teased her, causing her to pout.

"Oh, be nice." She swatted at him, but he just grinned guilelessly at her in response to her amusement.

To Willow's surprise, Xander knew how to make pizza dough, and he mumbled something about flying dough before setting about making it. Giles, Buffy, and Willow began a stern argument about what, exactly, was going on their pizza while Xander watched on, mixing and kneading the ingredients as necessary. He knew, and all of them knew, exactly what would end up on the pizza. A quarter pineapple and ham for Buffy; a quarter pepperoni for Willow; peppers, onions, and olives for Giles; and pepperoni, sausage, ham and pineapple for Xander. They always argued for the entire pizza in their choice, but it never panned out. They always split it four ways.

It was a familiar argument, and in the cozy atmosphere of Giles's home, Willow felt very much at home. "When are you guys heading back?" Willow questioned after the pizza had been decorated and rested in the oven, heating quickly.

"Well, the Buffster and I are heading back tomorrow night. But G-Man is hanging around as long as he has to until talk to those ministry guys about the dude following you." Xander answered her.

"How long do you think—"

"Perhaps a week, but probably not much longer." Giles answered. "You're welcome to stay here with me for the duration, if you'd like to."

"Thank you, Giles, but I don't really want to leave Harry all buy himself with the Dursleys the whole time, but I'll definitely come and visit you...if you want me to." Willow added this last softly. She had grown far more confident over the last year, but a small bit of her old insecurities remained with her even with Giles.

"The company would be appreciated, Willow." Giles answered her honestly. "And Harry is welcome to visit if he'd like to. Perhaps I can see what you're doing with this magic. Besides, I'd like to talk to him with some magic matters that I don't want to discuss with the Ministry. Some of the questions that I have might not go over very well with them, and I'm not going to cause any stress if I can avoid it."

"That sounds like a good idea." Willow admitted.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Willow entered the front door of the Dursleys' home. Petunia was in the parlor, vacuuming. She looked up as Willow walked in, an older man on her heels. The woman smoothed out her dress and walked over to greet them. Petunia was never fond of uninvited guests, and this was Willow's second in three days.

"I'm sorry to bring someone uninvited." Willow spoke quickly, in a disturbing almost-echo of Petunia's thoughts. The man behind her smiled uncomfortably.

"It's not a problem, dear. It's nice to meet you, I'm Petunia Dursley."

"Rupert Giles, it's a pleasure. I was just dropping Willow off after her visit. I'm a friend from home." Giles explained, shaking her proffered hand.

"Would you like to stay for tea?" Petunia offered, though she had nothing prepared. It was only polite to ask.

"No, not at all. I appreciate the offer, but I have business to attend to, and I really do have to run." Giles's voice was warm, but something about this house unnerved him slightly. He felt like there was something around the entire house that just weighed on him. Something like a ward, most likely. "You'll be all right then, Willow?" He asked her, focusing the redhead in his gaze.

"Of course, Giles." Willow answered. "Please let me know if anything turns up." Willow ushered him to the door as she quietly spoke. He hugged her once more, before heading out to the car, which Xander had borrowed the day before to pick her up after Christmas brunch.

"Yes, of course." Were the last words that she heard from him before she shut the door behind him and turned to Petunia.

"How was your visit with your friend?" The woman asked politely.

"Everything went very well. As a surprise, another friend of mine was there, and seeing her was very nice. And Giles is staying for a week for further business. He's invited me to come over and help him work as I used to back in school. I told him that I'd ask you."

"I have no problem with it." Petunia answered.

"He also invited Harry along." Willow added to the woman's surprise. "There is some work going on that we think would really interest him. And he doesn't seem to know anyone around here because of his boarding school, and I thought that getting out might help him a little bit."

To argue would have seemed odd if Willow wasn't already aware of the situation, so Petunia did the only thing she could do, and she nodded stiffly. "I'm sure that something could be arranged, but I refuse to impose of Mr. Giles's time for the sake of my nephew."

"It's no imposition. I'm going to be there anyway, and I'm sure that I'll get bored if I'm just waiting for a great deal of the time." Willow insisted quickly.

"Well, you can go and speak with Harry about it if you want to." Petunia replied, and Willow nodded in her agreement before heading upstairs. Harry was in their shared room, doing work at his desk. Vernon didn't seem to be home and Dudley was soon to be leaving with his friends. Willow closed the door behind her to announce her presence; Harry turned at the invasion of his room.

"Hey Willow." He greeted her easily before turning back to his work.

"Hi Harry. What're you working on?" She leaned curiously over his shoulder to see his paper.

"History of Magic. Just about the most boring class of all time." He reported forlornly, an open book of dates and alliteration lay before him. Willow glanced over the page and ended up somewhere between amused and confused. "How was your visit?"

"It was interesting. Giles is going to talk to the ministry of magic, but he also wants to talk to you. He's the one that told me about your kind of magic. He's not been much in contact, and he wants you to tell him what's going on." Willow said all of this very quickly, so it took him several moments to decipher what she had meant.

"He knows about wizards?"

"He was one. I think he said something about getting expelled from his school."

"What did you say his name was?"

"Rupert Giles."

"I don't know him." Harry shrugged in response. "But I'd be glad to talk to him."

"I'll let him know!" Willow replied with a huge grin.

"So, why is he going to get in contact with the ministry if he got in trouble when he was still in school?" Harry asked curiously.

Willow looked to the left and right as if making sure that no one was in the vicinity. "This guy attacked me before I left Sunnydale." She admitted quietly. "He attacked me with a wand, and I told Giles about it, and he said that it was a wizard. We're trying to figure out why someone from the ministry would do it. And if he's not from the ministry, we're trying to figure out where he _is_ from."

"Well, what does he look like?" Harry asked, wondering if he could match description to name, if he knew them.

"That's the thing. We don't know. He was wearing this mask."

Harry's eyes hardened and his fists clenched unconsciously at her words.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Willow questioned, concerned.

"Death Eaters.

(a/n: I'm either getting better or getting a lot worse at these cliffy thingies. Well. I have to run to bed. Seeing as I get up in five hours. I just really wanted to finish this before bed. I hope that all of you enjoy it. And please review! Cookies and hugs to all)


	12. Chapter 11

(a/n: Welcome to yet another installment of Unexpected Losses. Thanks to everyone who's hung on to it this long. I apologize for my lack of updates, but college is insane. I did pretty poorly last semester, but this time things are really turning around for me (thank God). My roommate's been having chronic aches for the past few weeks, and before that both of us were sick for almost three weeks apiece. I'm dating right now, and unfortunately, that tends to take more of my energy than I'm willing to give, which is a whole set of issues that I'm not going to get into. I'm really going to try to finish this story as quickly and as well as I can. Thanks for sticking with me. Thanks for your reviews and your advice. I really hope that you enjoy the story

Oh. And I got a review from one SilkRose. My. I haven't blushed that hard from a review in ages. I mean...eep! You were all...flattering and stuff. I don't take flattery well. I turn all red and then there's the babbling which thus ensues. Also very Willow-esque. After I got your review I had to finish this, I was just so darn pleased. So...this chapter is definitely dedicated to you. And if anyone even cares that there's more, they can thank _you_.)

Chapter Eleven of Unexpected Losses

"Death Eaters?" Willow echoed, confused. "You mean those guys that follow that wizard that tried to kill you? The ones that...that killed that boy?" Her voice faded off as she finished speaking, trying not to upset Harry further with her question.

"Yeah." Harry answered; still as tense as he was a moment ago. "You have a Death Eater after you?" He questioned suddenly, as if finally recognizing the situation. "Why?"

"I don't know. He just stared showing up before I came here. And he showed up again while I was at Giles's house yesterday. I don't see why he'd be after me. Are you sure that he's a Death Eater?" The glare the black-haired boy sent him in return was really answering enough for Willow. "I guess so. But there's still no reason for this guy to be after me." Even as Willow said it, though, she remembered what Giles has said before.

'_Imagine, Willow, if you lost yourself in that magic. You, of course, could still control it, but you wouldn't still be Willow. No judgment of right and wrong. No morals to speak of. Given enough training and reason…you could cause irreversible damage. Whoever it was that felt your power obviously thought of that and wants to use that power_.'

"Oh no." She said faintly. Harry cocked an eyebrow at her in obvious interest. "I think I know what's going on. But I doubt that Giles talking to the Ministry will help much. They don't know much about Death Eater activities, do they?" Harry openly scoffed at that point. Fudge barely admitted to their existence. Much less would he know what they were doing. She sighed. "I guess that we're just on our own then. I'll talk to Giles about going over to visit at soon as possible. Then we'll figure out what's going on."

"Why would they be after you?" Harry replied, his mind still wrapped around the same thought.

"Oh." Willow replied uncomfortably. "Maybe Giles should answer that question. He's the one who knows what's going on. I'm still a little bit clueless here."

"I guess that's fair enough." Harry replied, though he obviously did not. "This is kind of awkward." He finally added.

"Yeah." Willow nodded in her agreement. "Maybe we should just try to think about something else...like your homework? What do you have to do for that History of Magic essay?"

"Oh, it's about an old war." Harry answered, gesturing towards his book, his attention suitably focused on something else. Willow peered over his shoulder to see what he was talking about. She skimmed over the first few lines of the page, a familiar name greeted her: The Judge.

"Ah, no weapon forged, it took an army." She reminisced of the day. When Xander actually got an idea (and a bazooka) and Oz admitted how he really felt about the witch. It was when she was so confused about her feelings concerning Xander, and how Oz wanted freeze-frame Willow-kissage. She really started to fall in love with him that day, even though she didn't know it. She still clung to the familiar comfort of her crush on Xander, but eventually she moved on.

"How did you know?" Harry asked curiously, glancing up at the redhead, correctly assuming that a story would be shortly forthcoming.

"The Judge. There were these two vampires at home, Spike and Drusilla. They decided that they would end the world by resurrecting The Judge. They managed to do it, and we had to do quite a bit of research about him. Most of what we found said just that, over and over again. 'No weapon forged could harm him. And it took an army to defeat him.' They didn't even manage to kill him; they had to simply separate the pieces of him. Xander came up with the bright idea to try a more modern weapon. We managed to pretty much obliterate him. Had to pick up all the bits, though. _That_ wasn't the greatest time I've ever had." Willow replied.

Harry sniggered at the annoyance in her tone at that. "What did you use?" Harry asked, curious at what could destroy the demon.

"Bazooka." Willow answered with a wry grin, thinking about the weapon in question (currently residing in Buffy's basement).

"How did you—"

"Long story. Involves the Halloween costume switcheroo." Willow reported shortly, still grinning. "But have fun with that one." Her voice was sympathetic.

"Yeah. On the upside, do you think I could get extra credit for telling how to defeat him now?" Harry asked brightly. Willow giggled, but shook her head. Harry frowned slightly. "I figured not. Not that they'd believe me anyway."

"Probably not."

"Oh well."

"Yeah, now you actually have to study." Willow teased.

"Unless I can get you to do it for me!" Harry replied brightly.

"It won't help you on the test." Willow replied sweetly, but Harry gave her a rather aghast look.

"Oh, no! You're Hermione!" He gasped in pseudo-shock.

"Who's Hermione?" Willow replied.

"One of my best mates from school." Harry replied. "Her and Ron, anyway. She always says that when we ask her for help."

"Well, it's true." Willow answered.

"Doesn't matter, you're still just like her." Harry replied, almost petulantly.

"Seeing as how she's your best friend...shouldn't that be a good thing?" Willow giggled back, glad that their moment of awkwardness had passed.

"In theory, I suppose so." Harry mumbled in return. "But it doesn't help me with my homework, now does it?" He pouted in return, and grinned when Willow giggled again at him. He wasn't used to being giggled at, and it felt pretty good.

"I guess not." Willow replied, humor twinkling brightly in her hazel eyes. "I'm just here for moral support really; all the work is for you!"

"How kind of you." Harry answered dryly.

"I do what I can." Willow said in a severe tone, nodding sagely at the black-haired boy before her, and he shot her an amused, if not incredulous, glance before he continued working on his homework again. She barely suppressed a yawn, and realized how tired she felt. "I'm gonna go change. And then sleep. Sleep is good." The last of this babble was said a touch forcefully, as if trying to make Harry believe her. She grabbed a handful of clothes before she shot to the bathroom, where she'd been changing since Harry had come home. Wearing a huge shirt, she returned to the room to find Harry writing vigorously. Either he'd just found something very helpful, or he was BS-ing in a manner that even Xander would approve.

Willow did her best to fend of the thought of her best friend. He had to go home, and she was going to miss him terribly. Now that she'd seen him, the distance between them seemed even greater. It was good to know, however, that despite the great length in their physical separation, they were still able to get along well enough when they were together. It felt, to Willow, almost as if it hadn't been months since she'd seen them last. It was easy to see their differences, though. Xander was definitely taller and he'd filled out some. Like with the muscle-ness, probably from helping the in the Slay department, and he was obviously still with Cordelia and very happy with her, something that almost surprised Willow. Even a year ago, the two of them together was still an absurd idea.

Buffy hadn't gotten much taller (the curse of being...well, short), but her strength had obviously increased. She was apparently enjoying her work with Faith, who Willow had yet to meet. She had spoken with the girl, and after a reassuring conversation that she wasn't being replaced in anyone's lives, Willow decided that the second slayer was likable enough. Blunt and unafraid as she was, Faith was still very much herself, something that Willow couldn't help but respect.

She wondered, though, if her friends had noticed the changes in her. She had grown a few mere centimeters, and she settled for the fact that she, like Buffy, wouldn't ever get very tall, but so long as she was taller than the blonde, she could manage with that. Her hair had grown a bit more, and seemed redder than before. If they had more time together, Willow knew that Buffy would comment on that, and ask her if she was dyeing her hair – which she was_ not_. She had grown more powerful, magically, thanks to the books that Harry had so luckily left behind, and she had a firmer grasp on her magic.

It was still surprising to think that not a single one of her spells had gone awry. She knew, though, from simple deduction, that the Hellmouth had a great deal to do with the mistakes she'd made in the past. It helped to know that it wasn't really all her fault. She was working hard, though, on getting farther. This...Death Eater...that was after her...he frightened her. But hopefully between Harry and Giles (after Buffy and Xander left), she'd be okay and they'd be able to stop him.

She didn't say anything to Harry, not wanting to break his train of thought, and merely pulled back the blankets and hopped into bed. She pulled the blankets up to her chin, and snuggled down deeply. She turned on her side, away from Harry and the light he was using to do his homework, and she let her mind wander as she drifted off to sleep. The next day was bound to be interesting.

OoOoOoO

Willow woke all at once, something seemed to have startled her awake, but she had no idea what it was. There was nothing moving, she could hear Harry's easy breathing above her, indicated that he was still sleeping. She glanced around the room. And figured it out. Hedwig ruffled her feathers as she set on Harry's desk, looking at Willow with huge, unblinking eyes. Willow noticed the letter still tied to the owl's leg. She approached it slowly, unable to help the fact that she was still nervous.

She slowly took it from Hedwig's leg, and the owl hooted thankfully in response. She glanced up at Harry, and then returned her gaze to the letter she held in her hand. Curiosity burned at her. She wanted to read it, but knew that it wasn't her business. She glanced over the envelope, but it was tightly sealed with wax. She finally shrugged, giving up, and grabbed clothes before she headed to the bathroom to change. She returned a moment later, wearing a pair of jeans and a soft, fuzzy purple sweater. Upon entering the room she resumed a seat on her bed, not wanting to wake Harry. In about fifteen seconds, she decided that peeking inside the letter wasn't going to do any harm.

She glanced nervously at Harry's sleeping form before hugging the letter to her chest and returning to the bathroom. Perching on the end of the closed toilet, she carefully worked the wax open and pulled out the letter. After a steadying breath, feeling somewhat guilty for searching through her new friend's mail, she unfolded the letter and skimmed the contents within.

_Harry_,

_Hope that everything's all right. We're all fine, thanks for asking. Not much news about Boot's death, or why. Can't give away too much over mail, in case, but we think it had more to do with his parents, and he was just home. And be careful about the girl living with you. Don't tell her more than you have to. There's no reason to take a risk. We're going to find out what we can about what happened, but I suggest you just try to enjoy your break._

_Moony_

For half a moment, Willow felt insulted. "The girl living with you" indeed. As if she wasn't a witch... As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she rolled her eyes in exasperation at herself. Of course they didn't know she was a witch. That must've been what Harry started writing so furiously after he found out about her. Her being what she was had serious implications in his world. It was, frankly, a rather disturbing thought.

She replaced the letter in its envelope, and placed it on the desk. Hedwig hooted once, and looked at with Willow with its usual stare. Willow flushed. What was she supposed to do with an owl? She wasn't some kind of...owl...person. Wondering, idly, if babbling in her _thoughts _was some kind of sanity-degradation, Willow sighed. Glancing around, she noticed an empty water dish. After filling it in the bathroom and returning it to the owl, Hedwig hooted what Willow assumed was appreciatively and took roost on top of the wardrobe Willow shared with Harry. The redhead was rather proud of herself.

Glancing at the glowing numbers on the alarm clock, Willow noted that it was a most unfortunate six thirty in the morning. Too early to be properly awake and too late to get properly back to sleep. Sunlight crept into the room around the closed blinds, and Willow almost wished to open them, but it would disturb her roommate, who really hadn't done anything to deserve such cruel treatment.

Deciding, suddenly, to grab a book and head to the living room, Willow took up one of the books she'd been assigned from school and found her way into the kitchen first, to start up a cup of tea. With an almost mournful thought, Willow realized that true to Xander's thoughts, she was becoming very similar to a certain Watcher.

Armed with a mint tea, a notebook, and the Canterbury Tales, Willow settled in for one of her pastimes. Homework. Writing in her usual neat cursive, she started slowly. Evaluating the character. The Knight was good. The Nun was bad. The Squire was on the fence, but could be saved. It was all in the simple description. Thoroughly enjoying her task, she was surprised to a jump when a hand landed on her shoulder.

"Willow, dear, you're awake early." Petunia said kindly, glancing at the clock, which read five minutes to eight.

"Homework." Willow explained, tipping the end of her pen towards the multitudes of notes she'd taken in the last hour and a half. Petunia gave her a look that exuded the pride she obviously felt, and Willow attempted not to blush. Her parents hadn't been so outwardly approving of her work, and it was a nice feeling, even if it was just from Aunt Petunia.

"Very good, dear. Would you like another tea?" Petunia eyed the empty cup that sat on her coffee table. There didn't seem to be any damage done, but rings on her furniture weren't something she was fond of.

"No thank you, Aunt Petunia. I meant to take the cup back...but I got a little distracted." Willow replied respectfully, to Petunia's bemusement.

"Don't worry about it. Go ahead and continue your work. I'm going to start breakfast anyway." The thin woman took the delicate mug with her when she left the room, attempting to look for damage, but slightly failing. Willow said nothing about it, though, and merely accepted it for what it was.

She returned to her homework, knowing that Xander and Buffy and Giles would be coming for their last day here in a short while. Feeling almost guilty, Willow decided that she didn't want to invite Harry. Sure, she wanted him to meet Giles, and definitely get out of the house, but she wanted her friends all to herself, selfish as the thought might be.

A few hours, and two subjects, later, Willow heard the knock on the door with giddy joy. She didn't bother to let Aunt Petunia come open it, as she usually insisted upon doing, but opened it herself, sure that it would be Xander behind the door, as he was supposed to arrive. It was not. An uncomfortable looking older man, with fall-coloured hair that was graying at the temples stood outside. Willow blinked. "You're not Xander." She informed him rather stupidly.

"Indeed not." He agreed in an almost nervous tone. Immediately, she detected something off about him, but also something familiar.

"You're a werewolf." She notified him in precisely the same tone she'd used before.

He blanched at her words. "Um." He answered, rather intellectually on his own part.

"I bet you're _that_ werewolf." Willow deduced, confusing the poor man on the doorstep even further. "Harry's werewolf. As in...The werewolf that knows Harry and are thus most likely here to _see_ Harry, so I'm going to go and get him now so that...he can see you...and you can see him. Which is probably why you're here, like I said. To see Harry I mean. I'll be right back." The redhead turned on her heel and hurried up the stairs, leaving the door open.

"Um." He repeated to her retreating back. Merely a moment later, Willow returned, ushering Harry with her. The black-haired boy grinned at seeing the man, and hugged him fiercely. "Harry!" He smiled warmly at the younger man, taking years from his face, and hugged him back.

"Professor Lupin!"

"Lupin?" Willow echoed, thoughtfully.

"Remus Lupin, nice to meet you..." He drifted off, an obvious invitation to share her name.

"Willow. Willow Rosenberg." The redhead replied, and shook his proffered hand. "Lupin and a werewolf. There is someone out there with a _very _not funny sense of humor." Remus offered her a rueful smile in return. There was something both open and enigmatic about the girl, and it was very hard for him not to like her immediately. She almost reminded him of Lily with her already apparent cleverness.

"Pleasure to meet you Willow." Remus spoke again, as if correcting his previous comment.

"What're you _doing_ here?" Harry questioned, still obviously delighted by the appearance of the older man.

"Came to visit. Happy Christmas." Remus said, apparently still hiding something, waiting for Willow to leave so he could speak with the boy in private.

"What's going on, is your friend here, Willow?" Petunia asked, stepping into the room. She paused upon seeing Lupin. He seemed very familiar, and he wasn't the polite man that had returned Willow the night before. "Excuse me?" She asked in what Willow decided was a surprisingly cold voice.

"I'm sorry; I'm just here to see Harry. There's been an occurrence."

"I thought we asked that you didn't return to our home." Petunia said, edging away from the room a bit, as she was afraid. Willow was very confused at this point. Sure, it wasn't like the Dursleys liked magic, but she couldn't imagine them being afraid of the man at the door. He seemed perfectly friendly to her.

"I'm sorry, but this is an emergency."

"Ooh! Party!" Chirped an excited voice from behind Lupin, drawing everyone's attention to a blonde, chipper Buffy, who grinned upon seeing her best friend. Xander followed, just as happily, and Giles followed more slowly, releasing a long-suffering sigh as he did so. He paused momentarily as he saw Harry and Lupin. Then he removed his glasses and started cleaning them with the hem of his shirt and returned them.

"Um." Lupin said again, eyes wide as he stared at Ripper, before narrowing them, and stepping very carefully between his best-friend's son and a man he remembered from his school years. "You." Buffy slipped into a defensive pose at the animosity in the man's tone. She wouldn't attack him outright, but she would defend her Watcher, regardless of any consequences.

"This is...unexpected." Giles said in turn. "Perhaps you two would like to accompany be back home. I have a feeling that there is...quite a bit that we should discuss."

"I think not." Lupin said softly. "Leave."

"Hey!" Willow pushed her way in between the two men, and glanced at each of them in turn. Both men paused, neither wanting to hurt the girl between them. "We'll all go to Giles' where we can talk. And um...yeah. That's about as far in the plan as I've gotten. Ooh, and no beating each other up."

"Indeed." Giles said in a bemused tone, smiling fondly at the girl. She could behave quite unexpectedly when she wanted to be so.

"Aunt Petunia, Harry and I will be back later if that's okay." Willow requested, not moving from her position. The woman seemed a bit flabbergasted and merely nodded. "I'll make sure that it's _only _Harry and I that come back, too." Petunia seemed pleased enough by that comment, and she turned on her heel and strode quickly away form her guests.

"Right, then. Come on, please. It might be a tight squeeze, but I think that was can manage it." Giles turned on his heel, leading the way towards his small car. "I'm sorry about the lack of space. Lupin, you're welcome to sit with me. The kids can have the back."

"Kids?" Buffy mouthed to her friends, insulted. "Since when am I a _kid_?"

"Since this morning when you only at the marshmallows from your Lucky Charms." Giles answered dryly.

"Doesn't everyone do that?" Buffy asked, confused for a moment. Xander merely shrugged in agreement, they glanced at the back of the cramped car. Buffy got an almost mischievous light in her eye. "I call Xander lap!" She said, and slid onto her friends lap, sitting diagonally, forcing Willow and Harry to be squashed together.

"You're mean, Buffy, you're very mean." Xander reported, poking the slender blonde in the side, causing her to giggle momentarily.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway." Buffy quipped.

"I love Cordy." Xander admonished her softly, but it drew Willow's attention. The "l" word. She wasn't aware things had gotten so serious between Cordelia and Xander. She offered Harry an apologetic smile as she was forced to squash further against him at a particularly sharp turn.

Tension was thick in the front of the car. It was obvious that the two men weren't friends. They trip to Giles' was somewhat quiet after the teen's initial conversation. They clamored quickly out of the car. "I'll check, first. Stay out until I give word." Giles gave Buffy a particularly stern glare at that, and he entered his home.

Lupin and Harry both gave the three Californian's particular glances at that. Buffy simply smiled winningly, Willow shrugged helplessly, and Xander attacked Willow with a hug that he hadn't managed to give her at the Dursleys. A moment later, Giles returned and nodded once, and the Scoobies and the boy and teacher followed them into Giles' home.

"Lupin." Giles greeted the man.

"You guys know each other?" Buffy asked bluntly, as was her usual manner.

"Erm, you could say that." Giles replied, glancing about almost guiltily.

"I wouldn't say _know_." Lupin replied in a tight voice, still standing between Harry and Giles, unwilling to let the man hurt Harry if that was indeed his intentions.

"We went to school together." Giles added.

"Oh." Buffy answered with a shrug. "Not much of a reunion is it?"

"We weren't precisely..._friends_." Giles answered in an odd tone. "Remus and his friends and I and mine...we didn't..."

"You were a filthy prat." Lupin nearly snarled.

"Hey!" Buffy cried defensively.

"Buffy," Giles admonished her softly. "He's quite right. In school I wasn't the most...well, you remember the chocolate."

"Well, he shouldn't say things like that." Buffy grumbled in response, pouting.

Lupin regarded the man curiously. He hadn't expected Ripper to take his insults so calmly. Not that they weren't perfectly true. "What are you doing here?" he finally asked, unsure of where he stood with the man.

"I'm here to visit Willow." Giles answered, gesturing to the redhead in question. "She's living with the Dursleys now."

"I see." Lupin answered, though he was obviously doubtful of the man's story. Rupert Giles never really was the trustworthy type. "And she just _happens_ to live with Harry?"

Giles finally _looked_ at Harry, and his eyes widened in shock. "Harry?" He replied in a weak voice. "Sure not Lily's son?"

"And James's." Remus replied with a stern edge to his tone.

"Of course." Giles answered softly. He glanced at Harry once more, noting the scar and his eyes. They were truly Lily's. "This may change things."

"What's up Giles?" Buffy butt in, unwilling to listen on the sidelines any further.

"This is Remus Lupin."

"Werewolf." The Slayer answered smartly. She had grown used to the tingle Oz's own lycanthropy and it was easy to detect in this other man.

"Did you _tell_ them about me or something?" Remus asked in an almost harsh tone that didn't really suit his usual manner.

"Of course not." Giles felt deeply insulted by the insinuation.

"I dated one, Mr. Lupin." Willow interjected. "I can kind of tell."

"You dated a werewolf?" His attention was drawn completely to her.

"For a while." Willow answered softly, looking away from him as the familiar hurt that the thought of Oz still brought her. She wasn't sure if she'd ever get over it. Xander wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him.

"I think that's beside the point." Harry interjected. He didn't like to see Willow in pain. They were friends, and he knew that the thought of her ex-boyfriend was still hurtful.

"Yes, well, I can't help but be suspicious." Lupin said tiredly.

"It looks like we have something to talk about." Giles replied in the same tone and he headed into the kitchen to make a very strong tea. Of all the things he was expecting, it wasn't to run into an old school mate. He hadn't liked the Gryffindors much when he'd been in school. Then again, he'd been quite different in school.

And to think that his almost-daughter was living with Harry Potter. It wasn't...the most comforting of thoughts. He poured himself and Willow a tea, and Buffy and Xander hot chocolate. After asking, Harry got a cocoa as well and Lupin a tea. They sat at the table. Buffy was definitely feeling the stress of the situation. Harry and Lupin with both making her Slayer senses tingle and the sensation was almost uncomfortable. Giles's discomfort affected the Scoobies, but not too badly. Willow was mainly just trying to understand what, exactly, was going on.

"So, uh, lovely weather we're having!" Xander quipped, breaking the silence. The weather was, in fact, anything but lovely, a fact that had Giles giving him a severe look and Willow and Buffy hiding sniggers behind their hands.

"Indeed." Lupin replied, attempting to smother an amused glance. He still had a soft spot for students (and those around the age). Even if they were affiliated with the man before them. Not that this Rupert was anything like the teenager he remembered.

"So...why are you visiting Harry?" Willow piped up curiously.

"I like to keep in touch." Lupin shrugged.

"She's a witch." Harry said suddenly, causing a total freeze of every inhabitant of the room.

"What?" Lupin questioned at that, eyes wide.

"She's a wandless witch." Harry replied. "And she says there's a Death Eater after her."

"You?" He glanced at Willow, surprised. The blonde girl, he could imagine. He could smell something odd about her. Even though she was just a teenager, there was something in his werewolf that made him nervous of her. But Willow seemed perfectly normal to him.

"We think maybe?" Willow replied, but Giles paled considerably, as if he'd been struck.

"I see." He finally muttered. "This isn't good. Not at all."

"Indeed not." Lupin replied warily. This was only getting more confusing. And now how to tell Harry that Ron and Hermione had gone missing.

(a/n: Oh my. I'm such a witch. :) But then, I'm a witch who has lots of fun. And sorry this was such a slow chapter. That's why I made it as long as I did. On to my ninth page. Usually I make 'em five or six, but I felt bad for the lack of action. I really hope that all of you enjoy. And to SilkRose, thank you again. You really inspired me to write this chapter. :

(Also to M'Naria, who is the loveliest wife ever, and who makes me not hate everything as much as usual. And to Lady Lenny, who is a wonderful person that I finally get to see again next week. I can't wait. I miss you sweetie, if you're reading this.

(Oh, and I have three of my six grades back. All B's. I'm fairly freaking out. How happy am I! Very. : . )


	13. Chapter 12

(a/n: back again I return. Rejoice. Yeah. Right. I know, I'm laughing at me, too. Anyway, welcome back to yet another chapter of Unexpected Losses. I'm proud to say that finally something that I've come up with is actually appreciated. Don't mind me as I have a heart attack. . You guys just wouldn't believe how happy I am when I check my Inbox, and I have a "Review Alert" in there. I just...eep! I dunno. I just love feedback. I even love bad feedback, because...well, I'm demented or something. It's all I've managed to come up with in any case. It kinda makes me sad that I used to get a lot more than I get now, and I know it's my fault for taking so long with the updates, but I honestly do the best that I can. I hope that you enjoy it and uhm...yeah. Oh...and _IsiwaruOfCkaloatia_...please, please, please resume breathing. . Your review was definitely one of my favorites. Made me feel all warm and tingly and stuff. Yeah. I'm drugged. Don't mind me.

(_Cardboard Moon: _Forgive me, please, for first reading that as Cardboard Mom and then typing Cardboard Moo. It's four in the morning, and I randomly woke up. I have an exam in a couple hours, and I just checked my e-mail before falling back into unconsciousness. Over the months, I have gotten some really random and frightening threats to continue my work. I'm proud to announce that yours is one of the most original. . The only flaw is that I am already insane, so I'd probably be with the dead fish for a while...though that may actually be your intention. I shall have to reconsider that being a flaw. And thanks for the comment about the babbles. I never know if I'm taking it too far or if I'm really capturing the character as well as I mean to. . Thanks for the lovely review. And please don't hate me. It makes me sniffle.)

Chapter 12 of Unexpected Losses

Ronald Arthur Weasley suppressed a groan. His head was throbbing in agony, and a great deal of his right side was numb. Cracking one eye open before slamming it shut again, all he managed to gather was that he was lying down on his right side and someone in the décor department was overly fond of stone and the color gray. Slowly bringing up his left hand to his temples, he rubbed at them, feeling a sudden stab of empathy for the Boy-Who-Lived and the headaches that plagued him.

Deciding that no matter how inviting falling back asleep seemed, he needed to wake up completely and figure out what, exactly, was going on. Everything was fuzzy, literally (the edges of his vision seemed to blur, what he assumed was a lingering affect of his headache) and mentally, as he had no idea how he ended up in what he dubbed "The Gray Room." Slowly managing to open his eyes again, firelight from torches on the wall flickered at him, and he blinked back at them in surprise. Last place he'd seem that actually used torches as the only means of lighting was Hogwarts.

Mentally shrugging away the thought, he glanced around the room again. He was lying on a stone floor. Sitting up made the world spin violently around him, and Ron was forced to lean over and retch at the strength of the motion. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he shivered in disgust. Looking away from the spot where he'd lost whatever meal it was he'd last eaten, he leaned heavily on the wall so that he wouldn't have to sit up by his own right. He wasn't sure he could manage.

A soft snuffling sound took place somewhere off to his left, Ron slowly managed to turn in the designated direction. Every few seconds, a painful wave took over his mind before receding slightly. Finally facing in the direction of the odd noise, he noticed a slim figure curled up, a girl. She was resting her face in her knees, her arms over her head, and she was obviously sobbing something fierce. It wasn't the pose or the sound that told Ron who it was. It was the clothing she was wearing.

Because the sight of the red turtleneck sweater and dark blue jeans reminded him of exactly where he was when he was last conscious, and who he was with. "Her—" he broke away coughing. The single syllable had seared his throat, and the coughing was worse. Swallowing spit and bile thickly, he shivered again, and wished for a toothbrush. "Herm." He managed, and the sniffling stopped.

Cobalt blue eyes, bright with tears, inched above her knees until she spotted Ron looking back at her. "Ron." She whispered in a relieved voice. "You-You're okay?"

"What happened, Herm?" Ron managed in a croaky tone, unable to answer her question with anything positive. He wanted to lie back down again, but that wouldn't get them anywhere. And this time, whatever it was that they got into, it was up to them to get out of it. Because Harry was in the Muggle world with his family, and no one would tell him what was going on.

"You don't remember?" Hermione answered softly, swiftly whisking tears away from her cheeks with a brush of her fingers.

"I remember..." He paused, attempting to recall what, exactly, had happened. "You." He glanced at her, running his eyes over her once, attempting to see if she was hurt. Unsure of exactly why, he knew that something had happened to her. "You came to the Burrow. It...Our parents." He finally cut it as shortly as he could. She nodded once in response. Their parents had decided to let them visit on Christmas as a surprise, and it had been a good one. For a while.

"We...we went out?" He asked her, verifying what the fuzzy pictures in his head insisted had happened. Hermione nodded in agreement. "You...You took me to the veedo shop?"

"Video." Hermione corrected absently.

"That." Ron agreed. "And we were coming back. The...We saw Professor Kehoe." Ron said with a smidge more enthusiasm. He was rather proud of his remembering, but the enthusiasm itself was difficult to muster in his current mood. "She was running?"

"Yes. From Death Eaters." Hermione nodded in agreement. "Do you remember what happened?" She pressed, but Ron merely shrugged one shoulder in response. Talking was starting to hurt too badly, and the taste of blood had started edging up his throat, and he couldn't bear to say another word, even if he had remembered anything else. "We tried to help her." Hermione answered.

"She had her wand taken away from her. She was defenseless. So I took her with me, and you tried to figure out how many of them there were. Strategizing." She said the last word with a hint of pride to her voice, and Ron wondered why he couldn't remember what she was talking about. He could see the image in his mind perfectly, but it was created, not memory. "We tried to help her, but she didn't need our help." The brunette's voice was a trifled strained at that, and Ron wished for nothing more than the ability to walk over and hold his girlfriend. Not even that toothbrush.

"She grabbed me. My hair." Hermione tugged at the offending locks with her fingers, as if displaying them. "She took my wand. She-she held it to me, and used the disarming charm to retrieve yours. And then she told us to go with her." Hermione paused to wipe at the more stubborn tears that continued to fall down her cheeks. "At first, you wouldn't go. You stood up to her. But she cast an Unforgivable." Hermione's voice broke, and there were several moments of silence.

"Who, Herm?" Ron asked, rage simmering under his words. He knew already. Kehoe had cursed Hermione.

The whispered "me" was almost unheard, but he was waiting for it, and his anger boiled over, and without the ability to do much else, he raised one leg and slammed it angrily into the ground beneath him and winced at the pain resulting of the action. "After that...you couldn't. I mean..."

"I went with her." Ron finished, wishing desperately for the memory of the account to come back to him. Praying that for once Hermione was wrong. And it was some kind of dream or something.

"Yes." Hermione affirmed in a pained tone. "You came. She used a Portkey to get here. _He_ was there." Fear filled her tone, and Hermione Granger had to suppress the urge to curl up further into herself and whimper.

"He?" Ron asked, confused. There were a lot of 'He's out there. But he did have a guess as to whom, exactly, _He _was. A "He" that she wouldn't name. A "He" that almost no one was brave enough to name. The one that they knew they risked capture from just because they were Harry's friends.

"He." Hermione agreed, knowing that Ron would come to the most logical conclusion, and the correct one. "He...I was scared, Ron." She admitted in a small voice. "I mean...if you hadn't...I--" Her voice cracked horribly, and a broken sob escaped her. "I would've told him anything." She managed to regroup herself. "You wouldn't. He forgot me. You—He. He hurt..." She drifted off softly, unable to say another word.

"Did he hurt you?" Ron asked, attempting to figure out what had happened. Hermione let out another of her half-sobs, and straightened up a bit, shaking her head firmly. "What happened, then?"

"You." Hermione corrected softly, ignoring his second question. "He...He tried, but you pushed me. The same spell." She finished in an injured tone, thinking of Kehoe's attack on her. "But...but more."

A remembrance of the feel of knives on his skin made Ron blanch. And it was only the start of a flood. "He didn't want Hare." He answered her softly, even as the memories returned to him. "He wanted to know why he was with the other one. The...American witch?"

"Yes. He was looking for some girl, Willow." Hermione agreed. "From America. He wanted to know how Harry found her. Who she was. But...but—."

"We don't know." Ron finished, remembering the terrifying look in Voldemort's eyes whenever he cast a curse. It explained, anyway, the lack of feeling he had in most of his right side and the pain in his head. He glanced over his apparel, and noticed that there were a great number of cuts in his clothing. Underneath them was a fine work of fresh cuts, though they didn't seem to be bleeding – sluggishly if at all. He couldn't feel most of them, though, and took the small blessing for what it was. "He doesn't believe."

"No." Hermione answered. "He said that he was looking for Harry's new ally. He was...angry."

"Who's Willow?" He managed, confused, glancing to Hermione. "I don't...remember?"

"You didn't forget." She reassured him softly. "I don't know who she is either."

"So...He wants to find someone that we don't know that apparently says she's an ally of Harry?" Ron summarized, still very much confused.

"I guess so." Hermione replied. "But something doesn't add up. If Harry knew any witches from America, you'd think he'd tell us. Like _He_ apparently does. If there was someone...we should know about it. What if He's wrong? What if there isn't even--."

"That's enough chatting." Came the cold, calm voice from the doorway of the Gray Room. A very collected Kehoe entered the room, flicking her ash-blonde braid behind her shoulder. "Glad to see you made it, Weasley." She grinned darkly at the redheaded boy, who glared darkly at her in return. "Oh, be careful or you'll hurt my feelings."

"Wouldn't that just be a horrid thing?" Ron asked coldly, wishing he had the ability to get up and bodily attack the woman.

"Very." She answered seriously. "Oh, and thank you for the wand. It works much more easily for me than your girlfriend's. Such a pain. Rather like its owner really."

"Shut up." Ron glared again, seeing as it was the only way he could really do anything to her. Regardless of the situation he was in, he didn't like anyone talking about Hermione like that.

"No wonder you're a Gryffindor." Kehoe said, in such a manner that the word "Gryffindor" was spat out like the most disgusting insult she could manage. "Now, Weasley, I think that someone wants a word with you."

"Bugger off." Ron replied easily, unwilling to display the fact that fear was creeping up inside him, a feeling like a snake slithering around his gut.

"Well, I could do that, but it's either you or your girlfriend who goes and talks to him. I managed to convince him to talk to you first. I mean...you he might even tolerate for a moment. But wanting to send your Mudblood girlfriend to the Dark Lord? Not the most wise of decisions."

"Don't call her that." Ron nearly snarled when the word "Mudblood" slipped easily past one of his once favorite teacher's lips.

"I assume you're coming then." Kehoe answered with a half shrug. "Oh, and _Finite Incantatum_." She swished Ron's wand in his direction, and the spell that had apparently been placed on him was lifted. He noticed that his right side was no longer numb, but was instead alive with pain. Every one of the bleeding wounds was burning with fresh agony. He managed, after several long moments, to stumble to his feet without much more than a cry of pain. Without so much as looking to see if he was able to keep up, Caitriona Kehoe led Ronald Weasley to Voldemort.

OoOoOoO

"Okay. So...let me get this straight. She _re-souled_ a _vampire_?" Lupin glanced at Willow in blatant disbelief. No way had this little redheaded slip of a girl preformed such awesome magic. It just didn't seem possible.

"Yes." Giles replied, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. It was the third time that Lupin had repeated the same question, and it was getting annoying. He'd already said so four times, and even Willow seemed a bit insulted. "I assume that we caught some unwanted attention when we did so." He said "unwanted" delicately, stressing its importance.

"Death Eaters." Lupin reiterated.

"Yes." Giles repeated.

"Meaning?" Buffy asked. "What do you do with them? Stake them? Beheading? What's the what?"

"You go home." Giles replied sternly. "You and Xander both. Death Eaters aren't demons, they're people. And there is absolutely no reason for you to be here if they are. It will only cause more trouble."

"They're after Willow!" Buffy protested. "I can't go home."

"You can and you will. _Both_ of you." He shared his stern glare at Xander, who glanced back innocently. "You're needed more at home, and there's someone I can speak with here about Willow's protection if that's what you're worried about."

"You surely don't intend to speak with Dumbledore!" Lupin protested.

"Why ever not?" Giles asked mildly. "He offered me his support if ever I should need it. I cannot think of a time better than this in which I should take advantage of his offer."

"Dumbledore?" Lupin repeated dumbly. "Why would he—you were _expelled_."

"Indeed I was." Giles nodded in response. "Was not Rubeus Hagrid also expelled? You certainly trust him well enough."

"He didn't summon demons at school." Lupin replied coldly.

"I cannot excuse my actions, and I will not ask for your forgiveness. Dumbledore trusts me. If that isn't enough for you, then I don't know what else to tell you. But I refuse your old grudge against me to put Willow in danger." Giles seemed to grow larger as he spoke and Lupin finally jerked his head in a nod of agreement.

"Fine." Lupin replied sullenly, sensing Giles's true concern for Willow. "But I need to speak with Harry for a moment."

"Something's wrong, Professor?" Harry turned his attention to the older man, noting the serious tone.

"How many times must I ask you not to call me Professor, Harry? I haven't taught you for three years." Lupin lightly admonished him, to Harry's amusement.

"Yes, well, you two may have free reign of the kitchen. I will speak to these three in my room in the back." Giles indicated the Scoobies, and nodded his head in a leading gesture, so the three piled out of the kitchen. Once in Giles' room, the man sat on his bed and glanced at the three teenagers lined up by the door.

"What's all that about?" Buffy asked bluntly.

"Remus Lupin. He was a year lower than I in school. He had three best friends at school. James Potter, Harry's father, Peter Pettigrew, who is now dead, and Sirius Black, a murderer that has recently escaped from prison. He was in Gryffindor, and I was in Slytherin. They were houses at my school; somewhat like...dorms in college I suppose. My best friends at school were Ethan Rayne, Lucius Malfoy, and Severus Snape." He paused to glare at Buffy, who giggled at the names.

"Slytherin and Gryffindor were opposing houses and I imagine that they still are. The members of the houses were not to...harmonize. We hated each other with quite a passion, Lupin's group and mine. Lucius and Black hated each other almost as much as Snape and Potter. I, as you can imagine, hated just about everyone. One year Snape was almost killed by Black and Lupin. They tricked him into following Lupin on the night of a full moon. He was attacked by Lupin while he was a werewolf. That very well may have cemented our hatred for one another.

"To put it lightly, none of us could so much as tolerate each other. And it really only got worse. When Ethan, the others, and I were expelled...it was a celebration to those bloody Gryffindors. Of the five of us, three of us were Slytherin and two Ravenclaw, which is a somewhat neutral house for the two. There is also a house called Hufflepuff, but Slytherins generally despise Hufflepuffs as much as they do Gryffindors. Almost."

"So...there's much with the bad blood." Buffy surmised. "And I take it that Mr. Werewolf and you really don't get along well?"

"No. But I can probably speak to Dumbledore about some protection for Willow. He's quite the powerful wizard. Really, he's an amazing man. He has an understanding of people that's quite beyond more of the thinking capabilities of most people. He understood me in a way even I did not. He was the one who saved my wand for me when I was expelled. I fear he understood me long before I understood myself. He gave me my wand back on my graduation from Oxford. How he knew, I don't know. But I do owe him a lot."

"You trust this guy, Giles?" Buffy asked somewhat protectively, her arm draped over her redheaded best friend's shoulders.

"I would trust him with _your_ life." Giles answered her dead seriously and Buffy jerked her head in a nod. If Giles trusted him that much, she could put Willow's fate in his hands. Buffy reached out to the older man, and hugged him.

"Then Xander and I will go home and do the save-the-world thing from there. We've got to finish getting everything ready. We've got to go in a bit if we're going to be there on time. If you need us..." Buffy drifted off meaningfully.

"You will be the first I call if I need any help whatsoever." Giles responded, pride sounding strongly in his voice, and Buffy did a mental self-congratulations. Giles was an open book to her on some things, and anything that called up the "that's _my_ Slayer, I'm proud" look was officially of the good in her book.

"Good." Buffy answered firmly, and she leaned back into Willow, who grinned at Buffy, knowing that Buffy was rather proud of herself.

"So long as she's okay, I'm okay." Xander added from his spot on Willow's other side upon Giles' enquiring look, earning himself a nod and similar look to Buffy's.

"It's decided then, Buffy and Xander will go home, and Willow and myself will see Dumbledore about whatever protection he feels will be best for Will—"

"WHAT!" The outraged shout was easily heard from the kitchen. The four occupants glanced at one another before sprinting into the other room. Harry was at one side of the kitchen, glaring darkly at Lupin, who looked both guilty and anxious. "Why are you _here_? Why aren't you out looking for them? What—How!"

"What's wrong Harry?" Willow asked nervously, approaching her roommate almost nervously. She laid a hand on his shoulder, drawing all his attention to her. The bright green eyes were as expressive as ever, and seemed somewhere between furious and ill.

Harry broke away from the contact, despite its somewhat calming presence. "Hermione and Ron are missing." Harry answered her, before pinning Lupin in an angry glare. "They were caught on their way home yesterday." Harry expanded, despite the glare Lupin shot him (obviously the werewolf didn't wish for Harry to continue telling Willow what was going on).

"Caught by whom?" Willow asked automatically, approaching the black-haired boy again.

"Death Eaters." Harry answered, glaring darkly at Lupin, as if their capture was Lupin's fault. "Lupin decided to let me know that they're missing, so I can feel _extra_ useless as I hang about the Dursleys."

"Oh my." Willow answered somewhat uselessly, unable to imagine how she would feel if someone told her Xander and Buffy were in trouble without any way to help them whatsoever. Rather like the look on Harry's said he felt, she imagined. "I'm sure that they're not going to keep you with the Dursley's if your best friends are in trouble?" She gave Lupin a pleading look, and his features shifted to guilty again, and he looked away.

"Harry's safest with the Dursley's. There's protection there that he doesn't have anywhere else." Lupin managed in response, a familiar defense.

"What!" Buffy asked with her bright eyes narrowed dangerously. "That is probably _the_ stupidest thing I've ever heard before, and _trust me_ I've heard some _stupid_ ideas in my time. _He's_ safe? Who cares if _he's_ safe if his best friends are in trouble? He's the guy you want fighting these Death Muncher guys, isn't he? Gods, imagine if the Council got any bright ideas about keeping _me_ safe and let Wills and Xan just get in trouble. Like _them _being dead is going to help me at all." Buffy ranted angrily, ignoring the glare she was earning herself from Lupin, and the look of honest interest from Harry.

"Death Munchers." Xander grinned in response, a note of pride in his voice. He would've added "Go Buffster" but that might've somehow taken away from her lecture.

"Well, whatever." Buffy answered, slightly amused and unwilling to show it. "I mean...sure I can do the whole Fight-the-Good-Fight without you guys, but...it's better _with_ you guys around. It helps not having to do it all alone...you know. Except the whole Giles part." She offered Giles a bright grin at that, who just chuckled in response. Sometimes he was simply astonished by the wisdom Buffy had to offer, and this was no exception. She was a passionate girl, and sometimes that passion was intercepted by knowledge, producing the girl before him. Someone he was inordinately fond of. "Seriously, though, get my best friends killed...then why bother to save the world? They're the people I do it for."

"Aww, Buff." Willow wormed herself a hug out of Buffy, who was only too glad to share the aforementioned hug, "You're such a softie."

"Yeah, well, don't let it get around. I have a reputation to protect you know." Buffy grinned in return, glancing over to catch Lupin's considering stare.

"We'll go with you to speak with Dumbledore. We can see what he has to say about all of this." Lupin replied, giving Harry permission to come along without expressly stating it. It would've been impossible to miss the grin that lit up Harry's face. "I'm not promising anything, Harry, but I'll do everything I can." Harry gripped the older man in a tight hug, which Lupin returned fondly. "When are you planning to go and talk to the Headmaster, Ripper?"

"Please, Lupin, call me Giles. I haven't been Ripper for a great many years." Giles answered, pointedly ignoring Buffy and Xander turn to one another and mouth "Chocolate!" Willow smothered a smile at that, Buffy and Xander had e-mailed her about the band candy incident, and how Snyder had acted. Buffy had been rather mournful about her mother's behavior, and Willow had found a lot of humor where the Slayer missed it.

"Very well, then. When?"

"I have to take Buffy and Xander to the airport in a few hours, and then they will go back home. Your mother will be picking you up there. (This he directed at Buffy). Tomorrow, with the permission of Willow and Harry's guardians, we will go to see Dumbledore." Giles replied, thinking as he spoke.

"I don't think Aunt Petunia—."

As if proving a spark of Ripper was still in Giles, he glared at Harry over the rim of his glasses. "Then you'll tell her you're coming here. This is more important than what your Aunt wants." Harry grinned again at that. Despite anything that may have existed between his father and Giles, he couldn't help but be pleased that someone seemed to be on _his_ side for once.

"So, are they going to be here today?" Buffy questioned in her usually blunt manner.

"I believe that that is for the best, Buffy." Giles answered softly.

"Well, that's all well and good, but I'm still spending time with Will today." Buffy shrugged, and slung her arm around Willow's shoulders, hugging the redhead close to her. "I came for my Willow quality time, and I'm getting it."

"Hey! Me, too!" Xander answered, smirking at his best friends, both of whom grinned back.

Harry glanced at Lupin. "Can you try and get everyone to try and help Ron and Hermione? I think I'll be okay here?"

"Of course, Harry." Lupin nodded in response, and with a nod to Giles, he promptly Disapparated.

"So...what now?" Willow asked softly, glancing between Xander and Buffy, who shared a mischievous grin. Willow grew nervous. They were plotting. That could never be a good thing.

(a/n: ugh. I absolutely _hate_ this chapter. I like the Ron and Hermione bit okay, but everything dealing with the Scoobies is just...awful. I am _so_ sorry for the sub-standard chapter, but no matter what I did, it only got worse. I wrote and rewrote this about ten times, and I went in three or four entirely different directions and no matter what I did, it was just...horrid. I swear I'll do better on my next chapter...so...please be gentle with me. I know how bad this is. )


	14. Chapter 13

(a/n: Chapter 13 of Unexpected Losses. Wow. I never expected to get this far, to be completely honest with everyone. After the last chapter, I'm almost embarrassed to keep writing at all. But I suppose the only thing I can do now is try to make this chapter so good that you all forgive me for the last time. Like I said: Try. Expect no miracles, I'm only human, and I claim to be nothing else. Just please, enjoy the story, and take pity on my poor soul. I'm so unfortunate. Oh. Hi Jeff. And hi Ashe, Gladys, and Jackie. And maybe even Nicole. w00t. It's almost like I have a fanbase! Yeah, right…I wish.)

Chapter 13 of Unexpected Losses.

"_Crucio_."

Ron braced himself as the first syllable left the Dark Lord's mouth. He had heard that word four times so far, and the following pain still resounded within him from the last round. He felt as if he would bite his own tongue off to stop the screaming. Echoes of his own painful yells seemed to keep repeating in his head. It was driving him as out of his mind as much as the pain itself was. Every inch of his skin felt like it was being set afire and then doused in ice repeatedly at a speed so fast he couldn't decipher which felt hotter. He'd been sweating so badly that his hair was plastered to his forehead and the back of hic neck. Blood welled up in every cut he had, trickling away form the wounds in tiny rivulets of agony.

Basically, Ron hurt. A lot.

The worse Ron felt, though, the more the Dark Lord seemed to be enjoying himself, as what might pass as a smirk on a normal person resided on the snake-like face of the most evil wizard alive. Voldemort was never one to be bored when dealing with prisoners, but he did want answers. Leisurely torture could wait. Even for the foolish pureblood that called himself best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived. The Mudblood, of course, had to be killed in any case. But not until after he got the answers he was looking for. How could Harry have already managed to form an alliance with such a powerful witch when Voldemort himself had only just been notified of her existence a few weeks before?

He had Lucius following her. The fool should've managed to kidnap a single teenaged girl by this point, but had already managed to be mortally wounded once (in a truly odd way: by being stabbed almost all the way to the heart with a stake. Lucius had barely made it back in time to be healed), and had been threatened off repeatedly since that point. Voldemort was not surprised that the witch had protection, but it was hard to believe that all of the protection would come in the form of Muggles. Hard to believe, perhaps, but that was what he had been notified of by Lucius, and Malfoy was the one who would be most aware of her protections, seeing as he was the one trying to break through them.

The Weasley family had never been of any particular interest to Voldemort. He was aware of the Malfoy family's hatred of them. A hatred that was rooted only in their lack of material wealth and the fact that they were on opposite sides in this war, if indeed a war it was. But Voldemort was smarter than that. Magic ran pure in the Weasley line, as, if this boy was any indication, did loyalty. Far more so than the Malfoy family could ever hope to possess. Lucius, unintentionally, had repeatedly revealed that he would never be happy with a permanent subservient position. It really was too bad, though, because Malfoy would be useful if he wasn't _quite_ as power-hungry as he was. Malfoy would never be smart enough to become the force he so clearly wanted to be. Unfortunately, it promised that Lucius would go where the power was. Voldemort gave him that, and so Malfoy would remain for the time being.

The sixteen-year-old boy before him suddenly stopped screaming, drawing Voldemort from his thoughts, as jarringly as someone screaming into silence would have. Red irises seemed to grow larger around pitch-black pupils as he focused an unmerciful glare at the youngest Weasley boy. Voldemort made no movement, but merely observed what the boy would do. The silence grew, and to Voldemort's surprise, the silence was indeed _total_. There was no rasping of breath through seared lungs. There was no moan or groan because of an agony so complete that screaming was impossible. Those were noises he was entirely used to. There was no noise at all…only the unnatural silence that was forced into being.

Voldemort stood slowly, a kind of separated shock creeping into him. The boy was supposed to tell him of Potter's alliance. He was supposed to die in due time. But it was too soon…he wasn't supposed to give up yet. If the Mudblood knew of his demise, even she wouldn't speak. Voldemort nearly snarled in rage, stalking down to where the lifeless form of Ron Weasley remained. No magic could heal the dead, no matter the conditions or reasons. No matter if he needed the boy _alive_. He glanced up to see Caitriona watch him with a sort of detached interest. "_Crucio_." He said coldly, and didn't even bother watching as the witch collapsed in on herself in her pain.

He was slightly calmer, but by no means placated. He was only a few feet away from the unmoving, unbreathing body of Ronald Weasley. In a wave of unsuitable rage, he kicked the limp form with all the might he could muster. Something cracked within the boy, and he slid several feet before rolling to stop in an unnatural position, his arm obviously broken beneath him. Once bright blue eyes were closed in a mock sleep that was, in reality, nowhere near as innocent as it seemed. Blood and bruises covered the long, slender build of the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived. The Boy-Who-Died.

"Damnit." Voldemort growled and gestured to Caitriona with a whispered, "_Finite incantatum_." There was no need to kill her, too. He walked swiftly forward, and kicked Ron again, in a last exclamation of his rage. Things would have to change.

(a/n: ack. I'm babysitting, and Mommy came home early. Usually, I'd just print this for me and retype it all later, but there's no paper today. I'm really sorry I couldn't finish, but I can't help when I get off. Usually, I'd have another hour and a half or so. Call it a teaser or something? And yes, for those curious, Willow and Ron are my favorite characters from their respective sources. I think it might be a redhead thing? Anyway, thanks to everyone for lovely, lovely reviews. Oh. And to _IsiwaruOfCkaloatia_: If this was really a chapter, I'd dedicate it to you, but it's a teaser…kinda…so…uhm. Yeah, it's for you anyway. Thanks for your kind review. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! Thanks for that, after posting the last chapter, I was feeling _just _this side of depressed, and you made me go "yeah, yay for me, maybe I _don't_ suck." I definitely needed that. Oh, and also many thanks to _Damia_, who's honest with me and frankly, right, and I truly, truly appreciate it. Is this chapter (teaser?) any better?

_Allen Pitt_: urg. Usually I don't mind replying to people, but today I just honestly don't have the time! You just have to go and say comment-deserving things. : As for your idea about the mark of Eyghon and the Dark Mark, I actually played with the idea…to be completely frank, I almost shamelessly ripped off the idea I'm so bad! I even went into this whole idea that because they looked different it was some kind of glamour, and trust me, the story was just running away from me from then on. Hey, maybe I could just _write _a bloody story like that? Well, in any case, it's a great idea, but it just doesn't work for this story right now. There's only a few chapters left, and Buffy and Xander are going home. My story is _very _Willow-centric, and I've kinda plotted the rest. Besides, if we're remembering canon at all, they've got some studying to do on the Ascension at this point! It's up to the Wizarding World to save Wills for now. And now I've written as much reply to your review as I did chapter this time around. Heh. Well, urg, I really do have to go. I'll definitely have to come and find you about stealing your Eyghon idea, though, so keep an eye out for me!)


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen of Unexpected Losses

Willow buried her face in Xander's shoulder, blushing bright red. They were sitting in the bedroom that Giles, Buffy, and Xander had rebuilt for her. Buffy and Xander had almost immediately begun teasing her once they got into the room. Giles and Harry were talking out in the other room, Giles was having Harry share pretty much everything that had happened since he left the wizarding world.

"Looks like I'm right, as is usual." Buffy said proudly, noting exactly how embarrassed Willow was.

"I do _not_ like him, Buffy. I mean, I've only just broken up with Oz."

"I may have failed Chemistry, but that doesn't mean that I don't recognize it when I see it." Buffy answered, grinning. She laughed outright when Willow blushed again.

"You're evil. And what was with the whole lap-sitting act?" Willow muttered in return.

"Xander's comfy?" Buffy offered brightly, and gave a slightly embarrassed grin at Willow's put-out stare in return. "Oh, c'mon. Like you didn't like getting all snuggly with him. Besides, it would've been even more squished if I hadn't sat on Xander."

"Sure." Willow replied, drawing out the word in sarcasm.

"You've grown sarcastic in your time away." Buffy reported. "You must be stopped."

"What're you gonna do. Slay me?" Willow teased.

"Maybe."

"I'm glad you guys are here." Willow said suddenly, stopping the playful mood. "I mean...with everything that's going on. I'm just glad that you guys are here for me. I don't know if I could do it all on my own."

"Hey, Wills, we're always here for you." Xander said in a voice that was mildly chiding, as he affectionately tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I know that you're _there_. But it's not the same as _here_." Willow replied, working herself into a mini-babble. "I mean. That one guy killed Harry's parents and now he's after Harry and they're after me. They want to use my magic except for the 'me' part. And I'm getting better, but I'm still not using any really big spells. I just think this thing is bigger than me."

"I'm sorry that we have to go home, Wills." Buffy said.

"Oh, that's not what I meant!" Willow objected. "I'm just glad you came to visit. It made me feel just...better about everything, I guess. I was trying to thank you, not make you feel guilty about having to go back. Plus, I feel kinda bad for stealing you from your mom on Christmas."

"I, on the other hand, had a nice upgrade." Xander reported proudly, trying to relax the mood again, and succeeding as both girls grinned at him. "No Harris invasion. It was like...Christmas!" Willow and Buffy shared a glance, rolling their eyes at his antics. Buffy gave Willow a very pointed "You-used-to-like-him" glare.

"I'm smarter now." Willow answered verbally, to a very confused Xander and an amused Buffy. "Oh, bugger off."

"British!" Xander announced, bouncing excitedly at Willow's use of British slang. "You have a Giles accent!"

"I do not!" Willow answered indignantly, but admitted – only to herself – that she was indeed picking up the manner of speech of everyone she'd met. In her defense, she had people at her school speaking a little bit more like her, and everyone loved her babbles...not that they could always understand what she was talking about. Her phrasing and lingo was as odd to them as her accent. It made for some interesting conversations over the past few months. "Anyway." She added, strongly, trying to draw their conversation away from her changing accent. "So, how's Cordelia? I believe I heard the 'L' word."

"Cordy's great. She actually says hi. And she wishes she could've come along. But the timing was bad." Xander answered, a slightly faraway look in his eyes, declaring the fact that he was thinking about his girlfriend.

"I think I may actually miss her." Willow teased him, then turned to Buffy. "And what about Faith?"

"She's okay." Buffy piped up. "Ever since she almost staked that guy, she's been working pretty hard at training though. See, while I get fun cramps when the vamps are a'comin', Faith gets the skin tinglies. Harder to sense, but she's getting a lot better at recognizing them. I think Wesley's a good Watcher for her, though. Even if he is a little...stuffy?"

"Stuffy?" Willow echoed, asking for clarification.

"Very British, but not Giles-y British. Scary British." Xander translated. "I don't like him."

"That's because he was making eyes at Cordy." Buffy teased in return.

"He's like..._old_. It's gross." Xander replied stubbornly, causing both Buffy and Willow to burst into giggles at the conviction in his tone. "So, what about you Willow. Any new friends besides Harry?"

"Yeah, at school. I know a few people." Willow shrugged. "Nobody über-important. Mostly I've been working on the whole magic thing. Not a time of the socializing. Plus, I don't wanna get that attached, you know?"

"Well, we don't want you all alone while you're here, Wills." Buffy chided the redhead as Xander had a few moments before.

"I'm not all alone. Besides, it's only for a few more months. And then we can figure out how to get me back home. I mean, studying over here is kinda nifty and all that, but it's not home. And if it's not home by now, I don't think it ever will be." Willow answered softly. She easily caught the glance Buffy and Xander shared. "I'm not unhappy, guys, really. I'm just a little homesick I guess. And with Oz? I just wasn't expecting all of this at once."

"Hey, that slay offer is still open." Buffy kidded, winking at Willow, who was surprised into a laugh. While Willow knew that for one, she really didn't want Oz hurt, and two, Buffy wouldn't really hurt him; it was kinda nifty that she offered anyway. "No then?" Buffy pouted. "I get all the slayage abilities and then no one even _wants_ me."

"Can I be the first to _not_ comment on that?" Xander asked hopefully, earning himself a swat from the Slayer and a giggle from Willow. "I'll take that as a 'no.'"

Conversation drifted off as the three simply indulged in each other's presence. It would be the last time they could really be together for who knew exactly how long. Hardship surrounded both places they lived, and there was precious little peace punctuating the madness. They had long ago managed to grab it where they could, and use it for all its worth. Willow and Xander had lived on a Hellmouth most of their lives and Buffy had been dealing in death since she turned fifteen. They each knew to take advantage of any peace there was.

It was no real surprise then, when they heard Giles yell from the living room. Without even pausing to regret the breech on their momentary tranquility, they hurried into the front room to make sure that the Watcher was okay. Willow arrived first, and stopped short, causing Buffy and Xander to pile up behind her. "Harry!" She called. The boy in question was extremely pale, curled up into a fetal position on the floor, jerking spasmodically, and clutching his forehead as if it was tearing open.

She knelt immediately at his side, resting her hands on his face, trying to calm him. He was inordinately hot, and she pulled away from him for a moment in shock at the heat. Almost immediately, she rested her hands over his, and he slowed in his movements. She ignored the tears flowing down the sides of his face and his whimpers as she held her position.

"What happened, Giles?" She asked him, concerned.

"I've no idea. We were talking, and he seemed to slip into shock. He fell out of his chair, and he's been in his current state for almost a minute. I have no idea what's wrong with him. And no way to contact Lupin at the moment. My owl is currently at Hogwarts, and there's no way I can confer with anyone in the wizarding world at the moment. We're entirely on our own." Giles answered, cleaning his glasses for lack of more helpful use of his hands.

"Is it some kind of curse?" Buffy asked doubtfully, glancing around to see if there were any wizards in the vicinity that could've cursed Harry without being seen by either he or Giles.

"I do not believe so." Giles answered. "It's almost as if his scar is hurting him, but the idea is somewhat preposterous. Scars cannot harm people."

"Well, something's hurting the guy." Xander reported, in true Xander fashion.

"Apparently." Giles answered dryly.

All during their conversation, Willow had taken to speaking to Harry in what she hoped was a soothing voice, petting his hands gently, as he refused to let go of his forehead. "This is dark, Giles." She reported, worrying her lip after she spoke.

"Can you tell if it's a spell, Willow?" Giles demanded, willing to let his shock register later. He certainly couldn't sense any kind of spell, and none that he knew of had these particular consequences. And he, really, should be more adept than her at sensing magic, but was apparently the honing of her skills that she'd been indulging in was working quite well.

"It's not a spell. Or a curse." Willow answered, eyes closed in concentration. "It's almost like a connection." She shrugged, knowing that she sounded like an idiot. "Remember how I used to float pencils?" Affirmative nods came from the Scoobies. "Well, I would attach a thread of magic from me to the pencil to make it float. There was a connection between the pencil and me. But really teeny. It's like that, only it's not like a thread..."

Almost afraid of the answer, Giles was the first who dared ask. "What is it like, then, Willow?"

Willow swallowed hard. "It's interwoven, Giles. It's like...Harry's attached to something like I am to the pencil. Except bigger. It's not a thread. It's like a blanket that's wrapped around both of them. The harder they try to pull away from it, the tighter it gets until they merge."

"Have they?" Giles questioned her in a fierce tone.

"Not yet. But he keeps pulling." Willow said desperately, indicating Harry with a barely perceptible nod. "I'm going to try to help him. I can't sever it...the shock would kill him. I have to try to loosen it."

"Willow, no!"

"Giles, shut up." Willow said in a decidedly calm voice.

"What is she doing, Giles?" Buffy questioned, the pitch of her voice rising in panic.

"She's going to hurt herself." Giles answered, and rushed to the redhead's side, soundly slamming into...absolutely nothing. She had apparently made a barrier around herself and Harry. Her eyes were still closed, and she muttered under her breath. The slip of a girl gasped suddenly, eyes snapping open.

"Why are Willow's eyes all black?" Xander asked suddenly, an edge of nerves coating the timbre of his voice.

Giles rushed at the barrier again, determined to break through it.

"Stop!" Willow demanded in a low voice, and the Watcher was frozen in place. Willow closed her eyes again, trying to focus despite the rush of energy that almost consumed her. Part of her wanted to lose herself to the rush. It felt marvelous, filling every fiber of her being like nothing had before. Pleasure shot through every nerve until it became almost painful. But the bigger part of her was too concentrated on the feel of Harry beneath her fingers. She started there.

He whimpered again, and she once more ignored the noise. Her fingertips brushed his hands, and she was finally able to move them away. The concentrated part of her was shocked at the sight of his forehead. The scar had somehow opened and was bleeding massively. Somehow he'd managed to hold the wound closed with his fingers, but it bled freely now. The scar was the foundation of the connection. Slowly, using small strands of her own magic, she tugged. Willow could actually see and, in an odd sense, taste the magic she was working with, though she never had the ability before. Her magic was like a breath of fresh air, pure as new earth, like a whisper of wind. There were two magic signatures on Harry's scar.

One, she knew, was Harry's. He was powerful, she knew, but his magic was surprisingly hot where hers was soothingly cool. The strands of magic she'd attempted to adhere to his were snapped upon contact. Like honey, thick and rich and sweet, his magic seemed to simmer. After taking a deep breath, she attempted again, reaching for the other magic. It was dark, she knew without having to use this new sight. It was like ice. It tasted like decay and death. Willow shivered at having to touch it, and likewise, the dark magic shivered when her own touched it. But not enough to shake her determination lose.

She worked her magic around it, constricting it tightly. Using more threads of the same magic, she coaxed Harry's magic until it loosened, and then she pulled her magic away. Willow was able to separate the two magics for the most part in this fashion. They were still connected, but whereas Harry had been almost entirely surrounded by the magic, he was now attached in a far more straightforward fashion. Had the connection been severed before, no matter by whom, it would've destroyed both Harry and whatever was on the other end. Now it could be done, though there was still a huge risk of backlash.

Willow definitely wasn't going to be the one to attempt it, though. Her eyes rolled upwards and turned to the back of her head, as she, in a dead faint, and the barrier around her both collapsed. Giles, immediately freed from the hold Willow cast over him, barely managed to rush forward quickly enough to catch her.

"I'm voting that for the mega-wiggins." Buffy volunteered.

"I second." Xander agreed, approaching the collapsed Willow swiftly, gently brushing his fingers through her hair once he reached her. "I mean, did you see her eyes Buff?"

"Yeah." Buffy said weakly. "The Slayer sense was definitely tingling." She shuddered in remembrance. "That is _so_ something that I _never_ wanna see again. Ever."

"That one, _I'll _second." Giles muttered, cradling Willow in his arms. He focused his gaze on Harry, who seemed to have slipped into sleep. He was no longer whimpering or shaking, but his forehead was still bleeding. "Poor child." He muttered after a moment. "Assuming Willow was correct, this isn't the first time that has happened to him."

"Ouch." Buffy answered eloquently.

"Quite."

"So, what do we do now?" Buffy asked.

"You and Xander are leaving. You have to go home, irregardless of this event. We will be leaving in an hour." Giles said firmly, preparing himself for the indignant refusal from both of them. Buffy, had she not already been standing would've jumped to her feet, and both Xander and she leveled dark glares at the Watcher.

"You want us to leave after _this_?" Buffy asked. "Before this, I wasn't sure about it. I am _not_ leaving her like this."

"You have no choice." Giles replied. "You will go home. I will deal with the situation here, and then follow you. The Hellmouth needs you, Buffy."

"Not me." Xander spoke in a quiet, thoughtful voice. "At least let me stay, Giles." A hopeful tone entered his voice, and he glanced up at Giles. "This isn't a great situation for anybody, and Buffy's all with the Slaying. Let me stay, I can help. I can't leave her like this. She's my best friend."

"And I'm what?" Buffy objected. "She's my best friend, too."

"You have to go back, Buffster. You know it." Xander replied, and Buffy pouted her consent. "The longer I can stay away from home, the better I'll feel, and I have to stay and help her. You know I'll take care of her."

"Xander, this is dangerous." Giles objected.

"Oh, and home isn't?" Xander answered in a surprisingly scathing tone. Even in teasing Giles, he usually had a sense of respect about him, but it vanished in that instant. "The whole world is dangerous, Giles, and I'm not going to leave Willow in one danger to go home and face another one. Not when I don't have to."

Unexpectedly, Giles pinned Xander in a glare, and then nodded his assent. "You may stay, Xander. But Buffy is still going back. Your mother would kill me if I didn't, and you need to remain over the Hellmouth. The Mayor's ascension is quickly approaching, and you must be ready."

"Score one for bad parenting." Xander said with honest enthusiasm, which was somehow worrisome to the other conscious inhabitants of the room. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"You wait for them to wake up. I drive Buffy to the Airport." Giles commented, easily ignoring the glare that would have demons blood running cold. "You can handle that, Xander?"

"Yeah. I'll make sure--." Xander was interrupted by an owl zooming into the room, carrying an envelope. Curiously, Buffy watched it drop the envelope on top of Harry's now still form, and flew quickly up to the top a bookshelf, where it settled. A few seconds later, an odd rumbling sound came from the fireplace at the front of the room. After a moment of terse silence, the empty hearth burst into flames. After a moment, Buffy let loose a short scream when a head appeared.

"Is Harry Potter here?" The head asked Buffy, who was nearest, who nodded frantically, searching her person for a weapon to use. A moment later the head disappeared to her relief. Unfortunately, the head was replaced with a body that tumbled out. This body was followed by another. Buffy fell into a defensive stance immediately, inching over to stand between the defensive Willow and Harry. After a short moment, the two people stood. It didn't take more than a moment to realize that the one figure was identical to the other.

"Harry." The first said in a pained voice, approaching the unmoving boy quickly, stepping around Giles, who was still cradling Willow's inert form, and Xander who was sitting next to Giles. "What happened to him?" He glared up at Giles in anger, a protective tone lacing his voice. It was surprisingly Xander who noticed it and relaxed slightly.

"He got hurt. His forehead." Xander reported. "Willow said it was some kind of connection to dark magic."

"Who the hell are you?" The boy asked, with his eyes narrowed.

"Xander Harris. This is Willow. She's been living with Harry." Xander said calmly, not wanting to set off the guy in front of him, sensing that this situation could turn very dangerous. The pair both nodded tersely, understanding.

"He told us." The voice was still thick with worry. "_Ennerviate_." He waved what was apparently a wand. With agonizing slowness, Harry's eyelashes fluttered open. He sat up slowly, blood pouring thickly down his face. He wiped at it futilely. The wound was simply too severe to be staunched by swiping at it.

"Willow?" He asked, blurry vision only making out a blurry pale figure with red hair.

"No, Harry." Said the figure slowly.

"George?" Harry asked in return, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Something I'd like to know as well."

"The letter. It was supposed to lead us to Harry." George answered, glancing at Giles. "We had to find him."

"Well, you're certainly here." Giles answered dryly, but stopped when Xander touched his arm, shaking his head emphatically.

"We're sorry to barge in, but this is too important."

"Where's Willow?" Harry asked, blinking furiously to clear his vision of red.

"I have her." Giles answered.

"Want me to wake her?" George asked, wand still in hand.

"Please." Xander answered softly before Giles could object, as he undoubtedly would. George repeated the weird word that woke Harry and Willow also came to, slowly. "Wills, are you okay?"

"My head hurts." Willow answered, and then she paused before continuing, "Harry?"

"You did something." Harry answered her.

"I pinched the connection. I'm not sure what it was, but it was hurting you. I think it was killing you." Willow seemed slightly embarrassed, and shuffled out of Giles's grasp. "Who are you?" She glanced at the two boys, confused.

"Fred and George." Harry answered, instead. "They're my family."

"Why are they at Giles's?" Willow asked, bringing her hand to her forehead, dragging it through her hair. Her mind felt muddled and thick, it almost felt like she was thinking in slow motion.

"Harry, something happened." Said the other boy in a tight voice.

"Fred? What?" Harry asked.

"Harry, it-it's Ron." George answered instead, voice breaking as he spoke.

"No." Harry answered instead, shaking his head slowly in response, ignoring the blood that still slid down his face. "No."

"The clock. It--." George drifted off, resting a comforting hand on Harry's shoulders. The raven-haired boy jerked away.

"No."

"Harry, listen to us." Fred said in the same broken tone his twin used. "He's. Ron's—the clock."

"He can't be." Harry answered softly. "He—He just.—Ron!" Unsurprisingly, the teen started crying; wracking sobs silently overcoming his slender body. He was immediately scooped up into a hug by Fred and George.

"Ron's gone." George finally managed. "He was killed." He fell silent as soon as the last word slipped past his lips, unable to manage another sound pardoning a rough sob that tore through him.

(a/n: ta-da. I wrote more. Be happy. Or rather, don't be happy. Be as depressed as I am. I'm crying. I mean...not really, but I kinda wanna. I suck at writing...anything, but this was particularly not great. I love the twins. And for some reason, George in particular. And I'm not sure about this chapter. I hope you liked it. Oh, God, I killed Ron. -sobs-).


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen of Unexpected Losses

Hermione Granger was miserable, cold, and terrified. She had been alone for so long. Ron hadn't come back, and every second that passed left her more worried. There was no one near her apparently, and the echoing silence around her grew more and more fearsome. She remained in the corner of the cell where she and Ron had found themselves. She sat with her back to the wall, knees bent up to her chest. Despite her conditions, her mind was concentrated on something else. Escape was unthinkable without Ron, so she focused on something less pleasant.

Her teacher.

Despite obvious traitorous actions, there was something very wrong with Caitriona Kehoe. Won over despite herself over the past semester, Hermione hadn't taken the time to think about it. Kehoe was just too perfect. Despite everything she had apparently gone through, the older woman was beautiful, preternaturally strong, and in far too many ways flawless. She had won over the staff and the students. Even Slytherins respected her.

After what had happened with Moody, Hermione had assumed that the teachers that were hired for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position would have been more carefully monitored. Perhaps she had managed to sneak by the other teachers...how she'd tricked Dumbledore, Hermione was unsure. He knew most everything about Hogwarts, and everyone who resided in the building. Kehoe might've been under the Imperious Curse, but Hermione was loath to believe it. It just didn't sit right with her.

Caitriona Kehoe was vile through and through. Hermione could barely stand to think about the woman. Every single flaw and fact that should've slapped Hermione in the face throughout the last school year became apparent. The young woman felt rather as if she was waking from a long sleep. She shivered. Was this some kind of spell? Could something like it take over an entire school? Could _Dumbledore_ – arguably the most notable wizard of the age – fall to such a trap so easily?

The wheels rotating in Hermione's mind were halted when the subject of her thoughts appeared. Hermione wished desperately for her wand. If only she could cast _animadverto verum_. A charm that allowed the caster to see the truth of things. If the facade of Caitriona was false, it would allow Hermione to see who was beneath it.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked quietly, her voice quiet, strained from the past few hours of unstoppable tears.

"Haven't you figured it out yet, Mudblood?" Kehoe asked in a lazy tone, staring at the girl in the corner.

"I know you're not who you say you are." Hermione answered. "I know that you're a Death Eater. All I don't know is how."

Caitriona's pretty face twisted into a sneer. "And they call you the cleverest witch?"

"Who are you?" Hermione ignored the insult. Her pride wasn't important right then. The truth was what really mattered. "You're not Kehoe...and you managed all of this. You've got to be a high-ranking Death Eater. Voldemort wouldn't trust just anyone with the job that he gave you."

"Don't say his name! You're not worthy." Kehoe hissed angrily from outside Hermione's cell. She was nearly growling.

"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort." Hermione replied in a sing-song tone, ignoring the rational part of her mind, which was screaming at her for being an idiot.

"You can be the next to die." Kehoe threatened, her dark eyes narrowed.

Hermione, however, was following the track that she began earlier. "I'd say that you were Malfoy's father, but I can't see him _lowering_ himself into a woman's position.

"As if the Dark Lord would trust _him_ with something important." Kehoe answered, temper still flaring. Hermione hid a pleased smirk. The woman really was easy to get to.

"Oh, but he would trust _you_?"

"I am his _most_ trusted servant."

"But you're still a _servant_." Hermione replied, a note of mockery in her tone. "Like a little house elf. I bet that's what you are under that glamour of yours. A big eared, ugly little beast. Perhaps you're Kreacher!" Hermione, while still adamantly fighting for the rights of house elves, knew that her insinuation was driving the woman before her mad. She made sure to sound delighted at this last possibility. "The only thing you want is to have your head hung on the wall. I'm surprised that _Voldemort_ would even put up with you." She stressed the name just to further irritate her old teacher.

"Shut your mouth you _filthy_ little mudblooded bitch." Kehoe nearly screeched.

"Why, don't like hearing the truth, _Kreacher_?" Hermione asked cruelly, mind working furiously behind her insults.

"You will learn respect." Kehoe snarled. "I am Bellatrix Lestrange and you will regret ever opening your idiotic little mouth. Just like your little boyfriend regretted opening his."

Hermione stared in open shock. She was surprised it was so easy to get the woman to reveal herself. Immediately she remembered that it was Bellatrix Lestrange that killed Sirius Black, pushing him through the veil. And she helped drive Neville's parents insane with torture. Hermione shook herself, trying to drive the woman's taunt from her mind. No matter what Lestrange might say...Ron was okay. She was just trying to unnerve Hermione. Unfortunately, it was working too well. Hermione tried to examine Lestrange from the corner of her eye, to catch a hint of a lie.

"Think I'm lying, do you, girl?" Lestrange jeered. "No. He should've just done as he was told. But it's too late for him now."

"Shut up." Hermione muttered in response, unwilling to listen further.

"You should be proud, really. He managed to mess things up. All because he couldn't stand it." Lestrange was speaking in an odd sing-song voice. "He gave up."

"You're out of your mind." Hermione replied acidly, slowly rising to her feet. It only took a few seconds until she was face-to-face to Bellatrix. The only thing between them was a very muggle wall of bars. They were spaced about five inches apart. Only vertically. There was no way to slip her entire body through them, but she pulled back her fist and punched the woman with all her might.

A pleasant sounding crunch from her nose was Hermione's reward, and a horrible pain from her knuckles. She felt rather as if she broke her hand with the assault on Bellatrix.

Bitterly angry at the development, Bellatrix Lestrange held her bleeding nose and glared at Hermione in a way that froze the girl to her marrow. "I hope you enjoyed that. Because when the Dark Lord finishes with you, you'll be in even more pieces than _Ronald_. But not a whole lot deader."

Hermione reeled back at her words, comprehension dawning over her slowly. There was too much arrogance for this to be a lie. But there was no possibility of it being true. Because Ron couldn't die. He couldn't leave her alone there. It just wasn't _possible_.

OoOoOoO

Giles had to leave with Buffy. Regardless of all new developments, there was no choice. He was actually rather glad that Xander would remain with Willow, because he wasn't sure that he could leave her there alone with the wizards, and she wasn't in a condition to travel at the moment. He was currently on his way home from the airport. He had to stay long enough to make sure she boarded the plane. He lingered until after it took off.

He was well aware of his Slayer's perseverance. Especially when it came to her friends. He caught her trying to sneak off once, and convinced a stewardess to accompany her onto the plane, saying that Buffy was afraid of flying. The woman gladly complied, apparently having dealt with the problem before. Buffy had glared at Giles darkly, but remained on the plane the second time.

Meanwhile, Willow and Xander stayed at Giles's flat with Harry, Fred, and George.

Willow was uncomfortable in the situation. Harry had talked about Ron and Hermione quite a bit since she'd asked about them, just as she'd then discussed Xander and Buffy with him. But Ron was dead. He had been killed by the very wizard that was after both of them. They hadn't been friends that long. What was she supposed to _say_? What _could_ she say? After Jesse had died...it tore a hole in her heart. He and Xander were her best friends. Buffy was her best friend now, but there would always be a gaping hole that Jesse had filled. She had spent her share of nights crying and mourning.

But it was somehow different. Because Harry felt like he was responsible for what happened to his best friend. Xander understood how that felt. Despite the fact that it was an accident, he _had_ been the one to stake his best friend. He had actually left the room, taking Willow with him, after Giles and Buffy had left. He wanted to give the three some time to grieve before having to deal with them.

Eventually, one of the twins came back to Willow's room. He knocked on the door before entering. "Hi." His voice was rough.

"Hello Fred." Willow greeted him by name, to his surprise. Willow didn't know exactly how she knew which of twins he was. There was just a feeling, and judging by his shock, it was the correct one. "Should we go back, then?"

"Yeah. Harry wants to talk to you, I guess." He answered, and turned on his heel and left for the living room. Willow stood after a moment, glancing at Xander. The time they had spent in her room had been terse and uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Xander." Willow said, and she smiled wanly when he offered her his elbow to escort her back. "For staying."

"No where else I'd rather be, Wills." Xander answered. "You know, except maybe watching a scantily clad Buffy and Faith wrestle in either mud or jell-o. But you know. Other than that, right here."

"I will never be able to look at jell-o straight again." Willow teased; her nose was wrinkled in distaste, and she snuggled up to his arm, feeling safe for the at least the moment, which was just about as much as she could ask for. The pair weren't smiling when they entered the front room. Fred and George flanked Harry, all three sitting on the couch. None of them were crying, but Harry's eyes were rimmed red and were still shiny with the tears he eventually stopped shedding. His forehead was also sluggishly bleeding, which worried Willow. She noted that she should see to the wound at the first opportunity.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Willow asked, leaving Xander's side to approach her friend. Harry's eyes looked haunted, but he managed a detached sort of smile. "Of course you're not. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm going to kill him." Harry spoke in response, ignoring her questions. She blinked in response. "I'm going to kill him for what he did to Ron."

"No, Harry. That's not what you need to do right now. Maybe eventually, yeah. But there's something more important than that." Willow answered. She was shocked by the Harry's manner. He had changed a lot in a very short amount of time. He was grieving for his best friend, she knew, but this was something beyond grief. This was something beyond anger, too. It was as if he was stating a simple fact. The sky is blue. Ice is cold. My eyes are green. I'm going to kill Voldemort. Had he stated all of those things, Willow knew that she would hear the same truth ringing from each statement.

"What could be more important than what happened to Ron?" Fred asked in an angry voice. A look from his brother made him pause though, and he felt rather as if he was missing something vital at the moment. Blinded by his sadness.

"It's not who he killed that's important right now." Willow answered, kneeling in front of Harry, she rested her hands on his knees, and he glanced at them as if they were alien. All three wizards regarded her carefully. "It's who he hasn't killed."

"Oh, God. Hermione." Harry spoke in realization, eyes wide. "This is going to kill her."

"No." Xander spoke up, surprising everyone, seeing as how he wasn't really involved except for because of Willow. Even she stared at him. "This _guy_ is going to kill her. Unless we stop him. So what do we do?"

"Are you out of your bloody _mind_?" George sputtered.

"You want to leave her there?" Xander asked in response, rhetorically. He could see how much the boys cared about Harry and his friends.

"That's my sister you're talking about." George answered, eyes narrowed once more at Xander. George wasn't sure whether or not he could even _stand _the American boy. He was observant, and obviously he stated what was on his mind. He seemed to understand the protective nature Fred and George had over their little brother, Harry, and Hermione. Then again, there was no way that he could properly understand the gravity of the situation. He was just a Muggle.

"Then how do we stop him? Kill him later. We need to get _her_ out, now. _She's_ what's important." Xander spoke frankly, unwilling to spare feelings when blunt words were needed. Willow was there to make sure that he didn't go too far, but the boys needed to hear what Xander was saying. "So. How do we find her? Can you do it the same way you found Harry?"

"No." George answered apologetically. "What we did with Harry...it's an odd circumstance. With Hermione with You-Know-Who...there's too big a risk that he'd either kill her or that he'd be prepared and ready for us. We can't risk Hermione like that."

"Besides, we kind of thought you were Muggles. We decided that we would _Obliviate_ you guys before we left. Didn't know you were a witch." Fred continued.

"Memory charm?" Willow questioned, unsure. It was surprisingly her familiarity with Latin rather than any studying that gave the answer to the question. The three wizards nodded in return, acknowledging her answer. "Well, I'm glad you didn't. Memory charms can be dangerous if you're not specific enough."

"If Lockhart can manage them, anyone can." Harry snorted darkly, finally earning a smirk from the twin brothers at his commentary.

"Okay, so you can't find Hermione _that _way. Can't you simply scry for her presence?" Willow commented, moving the conversation along.

"Scry?" George repeated.

"Yeah. There are a couple of different ways to scry for someone." Willow, unknowingly, began a very Hermione-like lecture. "All of them require maps and some are far more specific than others. You can use a focusing stone for broad-spectrum searches. Like for a town or something like that. The most specific way I know requires a very specific, very close-area map. The smaller the area and the bigger the map, the better off you are. For that I'd need a few herbs that I don't have here, though.

"There's also a form of astral projection. That would be me sending a form of myself, that isn't physical, to wherever she is. The downsides of that are kind of...lots, though, so I don't suggest we try it. First of all, I'll be visible to all and sundry, so we'd have to be positive that she's alone to even consider it. And there's the fact that she might have no idea where she is, which would make it a huge waste of time. Unless you want to risk it to find out if she's alright?" She posed this last as a question to the boys, unwilling to make a move without their agreement.

She was almost surprised when each of them shook their head in return to her questioning.

"We _know_ she's alive." George answered. "The clock would tell us."

"What clock?" Willow asked, remembering that they'd mentioned it before.

"Instead of hands telling time, there are members of the family on them. And there are locations rather than time on them. She's been on Lost since she disappeared. Ron was on Lost for a while, though. And then Mortal Peril. And then he...he just...faded." George answered her, obviously attempting not to lose track of the point of the conversation. Hermione. They had to save Hermione.

"Okay, then." Willow continued, refusing to give them time to dwell on the though. "So, we can scry for her. I need something that belongs to her, though. Do any of you have something?"

"I don't usually carry around Hermione's possessions." Fred answered in an annoyed voice. He coughed slightly when Harry gave him an equally annoyed glare. "Sorry, not helping."

"The next best thing that I can think of is to just scry for all magical activity. Maybe there will be a focused area that we can work with?" Willow answered somewhat hopelessly at that.

"There's got to be something at the Burrow." George suggested, earning a thoughtful look from Willow and Harry. "But you'd probably have to come over. I somehow doubt mum would want us to leave again."

"We should wait for Giles." Xander said thoughtfully in response.

"We don't have time, Xan." Willow answered him. "I mean...she could get killed if we stay. But Giles--." She seemed torn. Everyone in the room shared uncomfortable glances, each with their own priorities.

"You have to go." Xander sighed. "I'll stay and wait for Giles. When he gets back, I guess we'll go and see this...Bumblebee guy that they were talking about."

"Xander." Willow answered softly, knowing that after arguing his way into staying, the last thing he wanted to do was hang around Giles' empty flat while Willow went off with people he didn't know to put herself in possible danger. But he obviously knew that it was necessary. If Giles came back to find them gone. Even with a note...he would probably panic and that could lead to a number of bad areas that they didn't have time for. Not with a life on the line.

"No. It's okay. Somebody has to stay. And me, without all the magic powers, leaves me the best one to do it. You have to do the spell, Wills. I'll be okay." Xander insisted. "Just patch up your roomie before you go. Doesn't look like the neatest interest and that cut's pretty nasty."

Willow nodded in agreement, and fetched a wetted dish towel. With practiced ease, she washed all of the blood from Harry's face. Tsking absent-mindedly at the severity of his cut, she only took a few minutes to fix it with a patch of gauze and tape. While neat, it wasn't the most attractive band-aid ever made, but for the material that she had, it was quite effective. "There, you don't look like a bad Steven King extra."

"Thank you?" Harry asked, baffled.

"So, we're going to the Burrow?" Fred questioned.

"Looks like." George answered with a shrug. "Good thing we brought Floo."

"Good thing that this house is connected to the Network." George corrected. "Okay, Fred, you go first, then Harry, then Willow, and I'll bring up the rear. Just to make sure that everyone gets there in one piece, right?"

"Sounds good to me." Harry spoke up. Fred pulled out a pouch from his packet and placed it on the mantel after expanding it. He took a handful of the powder, and flung it into the fire that remained on the logs, dwindling until the powder touched it. It flared up green, and Fred stepped within the huge fireplace and turned.

"The Burrow!" He shouted, and disappeared.

Willow watched in wide-eyed fascination, as Harry repeated Fred's actions. She shuffled up to Xander and flung her arms around him. They hugged tightly, for a long time. Eventually, Willow pulled away, grabbed a handful of the powder, and flung it into the fire. "The Burrow!" She repeated clearly, understanding how important something as small as pronunciation could be with certain spells. She waved as she disappeared, staring Xander in the eye.

She disappeared. Xander blinked slowly; then walked forward and caught George's arm as the redhead approached the fireplace to follow. He looked down awkwardly, and then cleared his throat. "Um. Yeah. Do me a favor?"

"Yeah?" George asked, curiously.

"Don't let her get hurt if you can help it." Xander didn't look George in the eye. "See, she's my best friend. And I lost one about two years ago. And I can't lose her, too." He looked up and caught the redhead's eye then. "Please try to help her?"

"Yeah." George repeated, understanding what Xander couldn't exactly put into words. "Everything we can."

"Thank you. And good luck." Xander waved as the teenager disappeared into the flames with a last return wave goodbye. He sighed as the flames dwindled once more. He glanced around the empty room. Nothing to do now, but wait for Giles to get back. He fidgeted for a moment. He grabbed the towel and kit that Willow had used on Harry and put them in their proper places, wishing desperately that there was something that he could do to help his friends.

That was, until he heard an eerily familiarizing _crack_. His eyes widened as he heard it. Hoping, against hope, that it was Lupin, and not who he thought it was, he entered the living room (where the sound originated). He peeked around the corner to see the back of a familiar black cloak of what was now identified as a Death Eater. Xander backed up until he entered a bedroom. He closed the door before him, and backed up further until he hit the wall. He slid down the wall until he sat. He hid, hoping that the Death Eater would think the house was entirely vacated.

Sure, he had been forced to deal with the Death Eater before (possibly more than one, he wasn't sure), but he wasn't sure he could do much against magic. And it was better just to avoid the fight he wasn't sure that he could win. Unfortunately, a moment later, the door opened, and the Death Eater entered, glaring darkly about the room. He caught the slight movement of Xander ducking down further from the corner of his eye.

Behind his mask, Lucius scowled darkly. Only this boy remained in the household. He sensed it. But he would have to know where they had all gone. "Stand up, boy, I know that you're in here." He spoke in a threatening hiss. There was no response. "Get up, _now_." Lucius added.

Xander, meanwhile, glanced furiously around for a weapon, feeling particularly defenseless.

The wizard walked around the side of the bed (behind which Xander sat). He glared down. "Are you _deaf_?" He questioned.

Surprisingly, the boy answered. "Only in homeroom or when my parents want something." It was a quip. Sarcasm. Lucius was momentarily shocked. He could _sense _the fear coming from the boy, and yet he continued to make obnoxious jokes in the face of the danger. It must've been a Muggle thing, because no wizard would be that incredibly _stupid_.

"Where are they?"

"Where are who?" Xander asked, brow furrowed in fake confusion.

"The _girl_. Where is the _girl_?" Lucius growled.

"On a plane. Back to America." Xander answered with a smirk. He did an inner Snoopy-dance. He was telling the truth. The girl _was_ on a plane back to America. Thus, if he had some kind of wizardly lie-detector, he would be telling the truth.

"Well, I shall have to see about that." Lucius answered in an icy tone. "But just in case you're mistaken, you should probably come along. _Stupefy_."

Xander's eyes widened as the blue blast flew down and hit him square in the chest. Slumping forward, the last thought that drifted across his mind was, "Giles is going to be _ticked_." Then...just blackness.

OoOoOoO

(a/n: Ta da! Another chapter! See what happens when I actually have a chance to update! I ACTUALLY UPDATE!

(and for reviewer responses, because I love all of you _so_ much!

(_Arano Honou: _Thanks for letting me know about the bold. I actually write the entire story in bold because the font I use in Microsoft Word is prettier like that, and I can't stand sans serif font when I'm writing. I like _pretty _font. What can I say? Anyway, I like comatose readers. . And hang around to see what arises with the situation of death. –bounces- I love writing Ron. Even his dead was fun...in a creepy...morbid kinda way!

(_Susan_: Yeppers, I did see that episode. In fact, I have seen _all _of the episodes, as that's how many I own! As for bringing Ron back...well, I just don't see it happening. Frankly, he wasn't supposed to die, but it kinda happened anyway. And please do hang around; I really appreciate the review and commentary!

(_IsiwaruOfCkaloatia: _Yay! You came back! I'm so happy! Unfortunately, I must report my lack of conscious. I lost it in fifth grade when my favorite pencil was ruthlessly broken. I stabbed the breaker with the end with the eraser. And I'd do it again! Bwahaha. Hee, seriously, though. Lovely to hear from you again. Please keep reading!

(_Ezmerelda_: This takes place during Christmas break. .)

(_Pamie884_: Thanks for your comments. I'm so worried that I'm not getting the character, whenever someone comments on it; it just makes me feel _loads_ better, so thank you! And I myself am getting fond of Wills and Harry! Sorry to say, though, Ron _wasn't_ faking dead. So sad. Although it really _would be _a neat trick, though!

(_Tina7610813_: You have lots of numbers in your name... This is the update. I hope you liked it!)

(_Scary Vampiress_: OMG! I always call one of my best friends the evil wench. Seeing how she is, indeed, evil. Ooh, and a wench! Lewl. That comment made me laugh. A lot. Except for the Polgara demon part. . . . . Please don't hurt me? I can't update if you hurt me!

(s_weetypie15_: thank you, and perhaps angel and spike, for the review...and please don't die?

(_SilkRose_: Eep. You're glad Ron is dead! -gasp-. Hee. I'm not, actually. He _is_ my favorite HP character. As interesting as it made the story (and on that point we definitely agree). I was sad to see him go, but it kinda just...happened. I didn't mean to? I'm so glad you liked the chapter! I hope that you like this one. But that's all for now.)

OMFG OHMIGAWD –DIES-. I HAVE THREE HUNDRED REVIEWS! GOOD ONES! You're all insane! I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU! -does I got 300 reviews dance-. I could just _die_ of happiness. You're all superfantabulous-faboo-phenominacular. Yep. So amazing, you don't even _exist_. Which, honestly, explains a lot. . Thanks everybody. Couldn't have made it to chapter two without you.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen of Unexpected Losses

Willow Rosenberg had rarely been as terrified in her life as she was at that moment. The world spun dangerously around her and she felt like she was either going to throw up or faint. Luckily, she saw the familiar face of Harry before her, and she flung herself forward and through a fireplace. She hit the Boy-Who-Lived with an amount of force. He did his best to try and stop her, but also toppled over when Willow hit him. She moaned dizzily and shook herself. Most of her was grimy with soot, and she hoped that traveling through another fireplace would never become a necessity.

"You alright, then, Willow?" Harry asked, assisting her to her feet. For a moment, Willow's legs shook of their own accord, and she watched them in detached bemusement, as Harry steadied her, holding her up with an arm around her back and the other under her elbow, which – though she didn't realize it – was also shaking. He carefully steered her away from the exit of the fireplace before George could come through, and then met her eyes. "Will?"

She jumped, obviously from her thoughts. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" He questioned slowly, making sure that she understood what he was asking.

"So long as I never have to do that again, I might be okay." Willow nodded in agreement, with a half-smile. She still felt more than just a little unnerved and was trying to relax. Fred and George obviously had given Willow a moment to collect herself, because after her affirmation that she was okay, they approached the pair.

"Harry, Mum's in the kitchen if you want to say hello. Would you like to go ahead and clean up in the bathroom?" George directed this last at Willow, who paled at the thought of having to be alone in the new location. She glanced at Harry, and knew that he both wanted to meet up with Mrs. Weasley alone, and didn't want to leave her. She smiled gently at him, and turned to George.

"Please show me the way?" She questioned. George nodded in return, and gentlemanly offered her his elbow, which she took, despite her sooty self. They headed out of the room, and Harry tried to hide a sigh of relief. He turned to Fred, and smothered the urge to burst into tears again. Fred obviously understood, as he approached Harry, and ruffled his messy black hair affectionately. "C'mon." He slung a long, freckled arm over Harry's shoulders and led him to the kitchen.

Harry entered a twinge slowly. He wasn't sure he was ready to face Mrs. Weasley so quickly after the news he'd received. A huge part of him felt entirely guilty, despite the fact that he knew very well that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be the last people to blame him. Ever. Molly Weasley glanced up when they entered the room, she stood quickly and swept Harry up in a huge hug. "Hey mum." He greeted her, hugging her back just as fiercely. A few stray tears made their way down the woman's cheeks, and she hastily brushed them away.

"Harry, dear," was all she managed to say before hugging him again, as if making sure that he was actually there. He seemed to understand, and hugged her back. She sniffled again, and pulled away from Harry, glancing over him once, making sure that he was in one piece.

"Mum, I brought someone with me. George is getting her cleaned up." Harry spoke softly. Molly reached up to pat her hair, knowing well that she didn't look remotely presentable for company. Most of her didn't care. "She's the girl who is staying with the Dursleys. Her name is Willow. She's a wandless witch, and she says she might be able to help find Hermione."

Mrs. Weasley caught that last news a little breathlessly. "She...she can?"

"That's why we're here. She needs something of Hermione's to do it." Harry answered. "And she needs a map. Do you have anything?"

"I know we do. I'll ask Arthur where it is. He's with Jon and Cynthia." She answered thoughtfully. Jon and Cynthia. Hermione's parents. Harry felt slightly foolish for not remembering that they would be there. He didn't want to raise their hopes too high. He had never really seen Willow work a spell other than the Lumos spell that he'd instructed her to show him. Then again, he couldn't imagine her saying that she could perform a spell that she couldn't do.

Willow entered the room slowly, peeking in to see if she was interrupting anything before her body followed. She quickly approached Harry's side, instinctively thinking of the only person she knew as a sort of safe zone. She stood awkwardly beside him, not knowing what to tell the woman before her. What do you say to a stranger when their son dies? "Hello." Willow whispered to her feet.

Mrs. Weasley offered the painfully shy girl before her a gentle smile, and reached forward and hugged her. Another redhead. Her entire life was full of them. She actually seemed a bit like Ginny was when she was younger. Ginny had grown into a fierce young woman, leaving her shyness behind when she found herself, Willow still seemed to cling to it just a bit. "Hello, dear. Harry says that you might be able to help us find Hermione?"

"Yes. I think I can." Willow replied, still staring at the floor. "If you have something that belongs to her. And a map? I should be able to scry for her."

"Come along, dear. There are a lot of people here right now, and you should meet them before you begin. No need to have someone walk in and panic. Hermione's parents are here, so they should have something for you to use." Mrs. Weasley said brusquely. The busier she was, the less she could think about her youngest son. She reached out and took Willow's hand, squeezing it softly. She was obviously scared, and Mrs. Weasley was mother enough to know that the girl needed some assurance. As if proving it was the right move, Willow met her eyes and smiled weakly.

Mrs. Weasley led them to another room, where three more adults were sitting. A redheaded man and another couple. The man stood and greeted Harry with a hug, as Mrs. Weasley had done. "All right, son?" He asked, and Harry nodded, righting himself when he was released. "Oh? And who is this?" Arthur asked, catching sight of Willow.

"Arthur, this is Willow." Molly said, entering the room. "She's a wandless witch. She says she knows a spell that might be able to help us find Hermione." The pair on the couch immediately focused their attention on the slip of girl that was Willow. The redhead in question blushed again, and silently thanked Mrs. Weasley and Harry. Whenever they spoke, they were careful to add "mights" and "maybes" just to make it clear that if it didn't work, they wouldn't hold her responsible.

"You can find my baby?" The woman questioned, frizzy brown hair bobbing when she jerked her head upwards. She regarded Willow with slight disbelief.

"I can really try." Willow answered honestly.

"That's all we can ask. Thank you." The man next to her replied, regarding Willow seriously. She nodded in response, accepting the thanks at face value.

"I'll need something of hers." She said softly. The Grangers shared a glance and then nodded to Willow in a confirmation of their understanding. After a short period of whispering, Mr. Granger left his wife and headed out of the room, presumably to get something for Willow to use.

"Come along, Willow. You should meet the rest of my children. They're all upstairs." Willow followed wordlessly, wondering how many awkward hellos she would have to stutter to a family whose situation she couldn't comprehend. Harry, though, was at her side, and she felt more peaceable around him. He would her muddle through this, despite his own pain, and for that she was truly grateful.

The first stop was a bedroom where two men were speaking. Willow immediately knew that they were more Weasleys, if only from their red hair alone. One was apparently older than the other, with long red hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a claw dangling from one ear. He was tall and very fit, standing quickly when the door opened. The other was also tall, but lankier than the other. Horn-rimmed glasses perched at the end of a long nose, and he seemed to be looking down at them as he also ascended to his feet, albeit more slowly.

"Mum." Greeted the first, and then he noticed the others. "Harry!" He seemed surprised. He moved forward to clasp hands with the younger man, with a brief, but warm, smile for him. He turned to Willow, who smiled weakly. There were so many people there, and she had no idea how she was going to be able to keep track of them.

"Bill, Percy, this is Willow." Mrs. Weasley began, but stopped at the look Percy was shooting them. "Percy?" She asked quietly. She paused when he slowly approached them.

"All of this is your fault." He said to Harry, fury burning in his tone and his eyes. He slid between the three people in the door way, and a moment later, a door slamming indicated his arrival at another destination. Harry winced when Percy spoke to him, and grew slightly teary, though he quickly shook it away. So, someone else noticed what he already knew. There was still too much to do to wallow in his guilt and misery.

"None of us think that, Harry." Bill spoke then, glaring at the spot his brother had vacated. "Percy's just taking this hard. He and Ron had another fight a few days ago...they hadn't made up. He feels guilty, and he just wants to pin in on someone he can take it out on. It's not anyone's fault but You-Know-Who's." Harry nodded, though it was obvious that he didn't believe. Bill shook his head sadly and turned to Willow. "Hey."

Willow nodded in response, but kept silent, feeling even _more_ awkward than she had before, and also angry. She wanted desperately to go and defend Harry to the bespectacled redhead, but knew that she was currently a guest, and had very pressing matters to attend to before she could go about yelling at people she didn't know in a situation where she didn't exactly fit in.

"Where is Charlie?" Molly asked her oldest son, then, knowing that she needed to keep the conversation moving.

"With Gin. She hasn't said a word since Fred and George left." Bill answered. "Just cries. I'm worried about her, Mum."

Molly nodded at that, and ushered Harry and Willow out of the room. Bill followed, wondering what the redheaded girl was doing at his home, and whether it had something to do with Ron or not. Molly led them to a room, which had its door shut. She opened it slowly, and was met with the sight of her only daughter and youngest child curled up on her bed, tears streaming down her face. Her second oldest sat next to her, rubbing her back affectionately.

Willow noted that this brother seemed to resemble the twins more than Bill or Percy. He was shorter and more muscular. He had a rather fantastic shiny burn scar on the arm he rubbed his sister's back with. He was whispering intently to her, and he turned to the door when it opened. "Hullo Mum." He paused for a minute. "Harry!" He seemed surprised at the presence of the black-haired boy, much like Bill was. He disentangled himself from Ginny, and offered Harry a hand to shake.

He offered Willow an obvious glance, and then shook her hand as well. "Charlie Weasley. And you are?"

"Willow Rosenberg." Willow answered quietly, noting how small her hand felt in his. His fingers were roughly calloused and it made her fingers itch.

She stared at her shoes, allowing the girl on the bed to collect herself without having a stranger stare at her. Harry, apparently, had no such reservations, as he quickly approached her. He knelt by her bed so that his face was level with hers. "Ginny?" He asked her softly. He sat back on his heels, giving her some space, and was surprised when he found himself with an armful of Ginny Weasley.

"Harry!" She cried, wrapping her arms solidly around him. Willow looked away, crushing a feeling that was remarkably akin to envy mercilessly. This girl was obviously suffering a lot of grief, and she was just worried about Harry. It wasn't anything personal. And even if it was, it wasn't her business. "I was worried about you." Ginny said this directly into his neck, so it took a moment for Harry to discern what she said, as he carefully pat her back. "I wasn't sure if you were okay. Or if you knew."

"Gin." He replied softly, managing to stand and pull the girl to her feet. "I'd like you to meet Willow Rosenberg." He pulled her over to meet the other redheaded girl. Willow wasn't surprised that the girl was a taller than her. She meekly offered her hand, and was surprised when she, too, ended up with an armful of Ginny Weasley.

"Sorry." Ginny said, pulling away sniffling. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's okay." Willow answered, regaining her voice, understanding the girl's need for contact, having had suffered it when she'd gotten the news about her parents. She'd always been one to appreciate contact with other people. Whenever she got bad news, it was a lot worse. "I'm Willow."

"Ginerva. Ginny." She answered, this time more appropriately shaking Willow's slender hand with her own. She seemed embarrassed, which Willow understood, and so the older girl said nothing, but merely tried to keep a warm smile on her face.

"So. Would you like to try your spell, Willow?" Molly Weasley asked from behind them. With a deep breath, Willow turned and nodded her confirmation.

"I think so. I'll need somewhere quiet to do it as well. I can't get distracted or the spell could go awry, and that's especially dangerous with any kind of tracking spell. I don't want anyone outside of this house to know what I'm doing. And I need that map, as well. As specific as it can be. I'll be moving from a big map to a smaller one as I go. Until I can pinpoint her location as much as possible. As well as four candles, too." It was probably the most words Willow had used in succession at the Weasley household.

"Of course." Mrs. Weasley nodded in acquiescence and then led Willow back downstairs. Willow was led into a small room that was out of the way and quiet. No one was even nearby. There was a map spread across a table, covering a wide area. Next to the table were several small stacks of other maps. Willow assumed that each one was concentrated over smaller areas that were on the big map. Also on the table was a well-worn book. She knelt next to the table, and read the cover. Hogwarts: A History.

Willow glanced up to Harry as if asking for confirmation. He nodded. The book was Hermione's. Willow was a little dubious at first, using a book to track Hermione's physical and magical signature, or she was until she reached out with a thread of magic to get the feel for the girl from the book. As soon as she tried, she was almost overwhelmed by the sense she was looking for. Nodding her approval at the object, she turned and knelt before the coffee table everything she'd requested was waiting for her.

The candles each sat on an edge of the table, unlit, but with a mere thought and a spark of magic, they sprung to life simultaneously, earning herself gasps from her spectators. She ignored them. She removed a necklace she was wearing. It was a rose quartz, and cut in an attractive shape, leaving one point on an octagonal shaped stone. A cord was strung through the other end, and Willow held the cord by the knot after removing it from her neck. The large map was spread out before her. With her eyes closed, Willow swung the stone is wide, slow circles. It easily turned according to her practiced touch. After a few moments, the stone suddenly dropped, almost as if it had been weighted or magnetized.

Willow glanced down at where it landed, and glanced at Mrs. Weasley. "Do you have a smaller map of London?" Mrs. Weasley approached the table, reaching out with her wand. She tapped the map twice, and suddenly the picture changed. It was only focused on the city of London now. Willow took her turn to watch in shock. The map didn't change size at all, physically, but it focused on another area entirely.

She closed her eyes in concentration again, and began moving the crystal once more over the map until it finally came to another stop. Mrs. Weasley and Willow repeated the process several more times until the map was unable to focus more. But by then it was entirely unnecessary. Willow stared in blatant shock at what was revealed.

She shared a glance with Mrs. Weasley, who seemed every bit as surprised.

"How did he get _there_?"

OoOoOoO

Hermione had been left alone since she'd gotten Bellatrix Lestrange to reveal herself. Hermione was, by then, half-expecting to be left to rot in this dungeon for however long the rest of her life might be. Voldemort didn't seem to have any interest what-so-ever in seeing her, and there didn't seem to be anyone guarding her at all. Seeing as she refused to believe Lestrange's taunts about Ron's demise, Hermione put most of her energy into discovering where she was. Unfortunately, form her vantage point; there wasn't a whole lot for her to see.

The most she'd been able to decipher was that she was somewhere _old_. It seemed to be they type of dungeon Muggles would've used long ago, but it might have been Muggle-inspired. Hermione wasn't precisely an expert on dungeons of _any_ era, much less what wizards currently used, so the only hint she really had was the age of the place. And that really didn't do a whole lot to narrow the field. The monotony of the small room was quickly becoming unbearable, and it slowly seemed to be pushing her to the edge. She really didn't know how much more she could handle.

Frankly, she was almost to the point of wishing Voldemort _did _want to see her. At least she could know for sure what had happened to Ron. They could be telling Ron the same thing about her as she heard about him, and she couldn't risk trying to escape or something with him still captive. Hermione was torn from her thoughts as footsteps approached. She scrambled to her feet and went as closely to the bars of the cell as she dared. After a moment, she heard voices as well, originating with the footsteps.

""What happened to his nose?' The voice was male and tinged with curiosity. A note in it reminded her of Ron, though the accent was American, so Hermione guessed that he was probably about their age.

"Shut your mouth, Muggle. You dig your own grave with your tongue." Snapped a more familiar voice, and one Hermione wasn't fond of at all.

"Okay, that's really gross." A disgusted noise followed the response. Hermione, stunned, realized that whoever the boy was, he was giving Lucius Malfoy _lip_. It was unlike anything she'd heard of before.

"I will relish the moment he lets me kill you." Lucius replied icily.

"Psh. I've heard that before. And trust me, Cordy's scarier than you." The answer this time was more conversational. Hermione pulled back when Lucius and the teen appeared before her cell. Lucius was still wearing the traditional robes of a Death Eater, but Hermione easily recognized him from his speech alone. The boy was a touch taller than Malfoy and had thick, dark hair. His long-sleeved shirt was bright and dark blue striped, and he wore baggy khaki pants as well. He was slender, and not badly built, but was apparently not the most graceful of sorts as he almost tripped over his own feet, regaining balance quickly.

Lucius turned his back to Hermione, and nearly tossed the teenager into a cell across from Hermione's. She had the distinct impression that if he _could've_ thrown him in, he would've. Lucius locked the cage behind him, sneering at both inhabitants of the room before leaving without another word.

The teenager, in his cell, glared at his retreating back, but also kept his mouth shut. He quickly surveyed his surroundings before seeing her. "Hey. This place sucks."

"I'd have to agree." Hermione answered, wondering what a Muggle, American, teenaged boy was doing where Voldemort was concerned.

A spark of recognition lit up warm brown eyes as he stared at her. "You...you must be that girl."

"What girl?" Hermione was confused.

"Harry's friend." Xander answered softly, but in their present conditions, it was quite easy for Hermione to hear him.

"You know Harry?" She asked in disbelief. Harry had never mentioned knowing any Americans. Much less one as odd as this boy. "Who are you?"

"I'm Xander Harris. I met Harry yesterday." Xander answered. He wasn't sure how or whether he was supposed to tell the girl that her boyfriend was dead. Or, really, much of anything. It wouldn't be easy explaining who he was and what he was doing there, and what Voldemort wanted with him. Xander had seen enough movies that he knew their conversations might well be monitored, and he didn't want to risk anyone finding out about the truth of Willow's location.

"Hermione Granger." The brunette girl answered him. She seemed very weary to Xander, leaning heavily on the bars of her cell. Her bushy hair stuck out wildly, and her sweater and jeans were badly rumpled from a long period of time of wear without change. There was something distinctly Willow-like about her, though, and Xander really wanted to go and hug her for it. "Why are you here?"

"Because I know things that He doesn't." Xander answered her, and she didn't have to ask which "He" Xander was talking about.

"That's dangerous." Hermione replied softly, and moved to sit next to the bars, unsure how much longer her legs could support her without getting some rest. She'd felt exhausted since she'd first arrived, and everything seemed to catch up with her. Xander copied her movements from her side of the hallway, taking a seat as well, before offering her a weary smile.

"Not as dangerous as not knowing something." Xander replied with an unconcerned shrug. Hermione wondered whether if he was brave or just incredibly stupid. "So, how do we get out of here?"

"We don't. Or I don't. You can try." Hermione spoke with a shrug, staring at the brick wall before her.

"Why?" He asked. Xander bit his tongue, praying that she wouldn't mention Ron. He didn't know how to tell her.

"My boyfriend. He's here somewhere, but I can't leave without him." Hermione answered, this time turning to look at him. It was impossible to miss his flinch at her words. Hermione wondered why. He turned to her with a stare that frightened her. "What?"

"Ron." Xander answered. He watched as Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. After a moment, she nodded in agreement. Obviously, she assumed that because he knew about her, Harry had told him about Ron as well. Xander clenched his eyes shut, and when he finally managed to open them again, Hermione was standing again and had pinned him in her gaze. Xander swallowed thickly.

"What?" Hermione asked faintly.

"Ron is dead." Xander answered her softly. "Fred and George came and told Harry. I'm sorry."

"No." Hermione said weakly. She was unsure whether or not she was shocked, confirming a truth she couldn't admit alone, or angry. She glared, bright-eyed, at the intruder into her own personal hell, deciding on angry. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"The clock." Xander answered, even as his mind scrambled to come up with something to tell her. "They said he faded on the clock."

Hermione wilted visibly at that. No muggle could've known about the Weasley's clock or how it functioned. She backed up until she hit a wall, and slid down to sit. "No. Please."

"Hermione, we have to get out of here." Xander interrupted her spinning mind.

"What's the point?"

"Getting him back. And Harry. I don't think he could keep going without you." Xander replied softly, honesty ringing so truly in his tone Hermione couldn't ignore it. His mind traveled to Jesse's death and Willow helping him cope with the pain.

"Okay. Let's make a plan."

(a/n: w00t. Another chapter! I totally didn't think you guys would get it. My cat knocked over a drink onto my computer and it wouldn't start up for a day just when I figured where I wanted this to go, too. Anyway. I kind of like this chapter a bit. You people should've seen the first draft. Horrible, horrible. –shivers-. Anyway, please leave me a note saying what you though. I hope that all of you liked it and all that. I'm off!)


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen of Unexpected Losses

"We can't all go." Harry spoke, annoyed, glancing around the very full room. Almost every inhabitant in the room wanted to go along to help find and save Hermione. Surprisingly, Willow offered to remain behind. The Grangers, however, really didn't have much of a choice to stay, regardless of what they wanted, because of the fact that they were Muggles.

All of Ron's older brothers, pardoning Percy, who was still in another room and refused to come out, wanted to go. As did Ginny. Harry wasn't sure whether or not to be surprised that Ron's parents wanted to go. It seemed that absolutely everyone wanted to go. He was glaring about the room. Most seemed to think that he was automatically in charge, though Mrs. Weasley had stared at him dubiously for some time, before it became obvious that not even she could change his mind about going.

"Even if only the graduates go, it's just too many people." Bill spoke, earning himself with a furious glare from Ginny, who was the only one that wouldn't be included if they based it on the graduation basis. Especially as Harry was apparently included no matter who else went. "This isn't an assault. This is to get Hermione."

"Don't forget, you guys will be going to a place that's overrun with Muggles usually. How he even managed to hide there with all the activity...I'm not sure." Willow spoke directly to Harry. "You definitely need to go in a group that can blend in. If Hermione's not in good shape, you need to able to get her away without attracting attention. This has to be planned out well, not just spur of the moment kinda things." Her voice faded out again as she was subjected to looks from several people around her.

Harry, however, seemed to be listening. "Okay. A small enough group to blend in, but large enough that we will be able to make sure that we can get Hermione out of there safely, and without gathering any unwanted attention from any Muggles. Or frankly, anyone else."

Willow nodded in agreement, but didn't speak again, not wanting to subject herself to the attention of everyone in the room once more. The moment passed quickly, as everyone began arguing once more. Willow retreated to Harry's side and he gave her a remorseful smile. He understood how overwhelming the entire Weasley family could be all at once. And at least when he'd had to face them, he knew them and had Ron. Willow only had him, and the situation was entirely different.

A few moments later, their entire conversation was called to a very quick halt when there was the familiar crack sound that accompanied someone that was Apparating. Willow found herself instantly on guard, and wasn't surprised when Harry was the same. Everyone instantly relaxed when it was Lupin. Even Willow did for a moment, but as soon as it was obvious that Giles was with him, she was on edge again.

Lupin approached Mrs. Weasley to receive a fond greeting. She and her husband led the werewolf away to explain to them what had happened. Giles, however, motioned to Willow with a smidgeon of relief on his face once he'd spotted her. She shot Harry a glance, and then followed Giles as he led her to somewhere where they could obviously talk. Harry followed quickly.

Giles stood stiffly, his arms crossed. Willow didn't bother giving him any kind of girth, standing very close to him, her arms almost touching his as she leaned towards him. He ducked his head closer to hers, and glanced around. "Willow." He began softly. "Please tell me Xander is here."

"No. Xander is with you. He waited at the house so when you got back you wouldn't be alone and you'd know where we were and were safe. And Xander is with you now and that's how you knew to find us here and he's okay." Willow's answer began slowly and worked itself into a panicked babble. "He is, right, Giles? Xander's with you and okay?"

"While I have no doubt that wherever he is, Xander is in no danger, he isn't with me. I was hoping that you were all being terribly irresponsible and left without leaving word." Giles answered, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt. He knew what he would find when he found one of his kids. Something would have happened. While he wasn't entirely positive about Xander, he knew that Willow wouldn't have been negligent enough to leave his house empty without as much as a note. When Remus arrived, and suggested that they go to the Weasley's home to look, and he'd seen Willow, he didn't think he'd been so relieved in his life. But when he saw Willow without Xander, his heart and stomach both dropped to the vicinity of his feet.

"You don't think that that Death Eater came back, do you Giles?" Willow asked in a panicked voice, giving the Watcher a desperate look. "Because if he went back and only Xander was there..." She paused for several moments. Harry, who was standing only a few feet away wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Everything just seemed to be unraveling. Whenever they got a hint of good news, they were blown over by bad. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. In the end it was supposed to be Harry vs. Voldemort. Other people weren't supposed to get involved. Or hurt.

"I understand, Willow, but I'm sure that Xander is alright." Giles answered, reaching out to smooth down Willow's hair in a comforting motion. The redheaded girl was nearly chewing on her lip, staring dolefully at the ground.

"Giles." Willow finally brought her gaze up to meet Giles' and he tried not to notice the tears that had gathered in Willow's eyes. She had rarely been to show her emotions, and she seemed to be doing so in surplus lately. "If he's still alive, and a Death Eater showed up. That means they took him."

"That seems to be the most likely solution, yes." Giles answered, wondering where the girl's mind was going.

"Good." Willow answered, and she straightened herself, and turned to Harry. "I know who's going." She said softly, and his eyes widened in surprise. Even when receiving news that would make some people simply cease function, she was thinking. Harry cocked an eyebrow at her, obviously waiting for her to continue. "You'll go, of course. There's not a whole lot of choice about that. But I'm going to go." She glared at him when he started to object.

"I've been practicing with your magic and my own lately. I think it's best if I use mine. The spells are more powerful that way, and we'll have a better prepared assault if we're forced to make one. They won't be expecting two types of magic; what they don't expect, they can't defend." Willow carried on easily, Harry listening patiently. "We can bring Giles and Mr. Lupin. They're both adults, which will be good cover for Muggles, and they both have a wider range of spell casting than we do.

"Not to mention, Giles will be good for a physical assault. Magic isn't our only defense. If we treat it like it is, then we're in trouble." Willow continued speaking, unaware that Lupin and several of the Weasleys had filtered in while her attention was turned inwards. For the first time, she continued speaking easily despite their presence. "I also think that we should bring in Charlie. Gathering by the burn scars and his general physique, he'd be able to hand some of the physical problems we might face as well. I also want to bring in a twin." Harry gave her a most curious look at that. So did a great deal of the room, including the twins themselves.

"For the purpose of a small group, I don't want to bring in both. But when I was upstairs I saw a form for what I believe was a joke shop. Apparently run by the twins. I assume that they made a great deal – if not all – of their own products, which suggests a level of ingenuity that can be useful in doing more than just making Canary Creams. I figured that they'll be able to make flash decisions and, you know, use that to get us around problems that we can't magic or beat our way through. Sometimes you just need plain-old smarts."

"I have a feeling that with you around, we don't need anyone else to help us with that category." Charlie remarked from where he was leaning on the opposite wall of the room. Willow flushed when she realized how big an audience she'd required in speaking to Harry.

"Are you sure Willow?' Harry asked doubtfully. "You want to go?"

"Harry, I had no right before. Hermione is your friend and your family. But Xander? He's _my_ family. And nobody messes with my family. So, yes, I'm going. Unless you think you can stop me." Everyone seemed surprised by the strength that Willow had seemed to collect as she spoke. For one who seemed so shy and fragile, she really did have a backbone of steel.

"I'd really rather if Arthur or I went along." Molly objected.

"No." Willow answered shortly, stunning Mrs. Weasley to silence quickly. Willow offered a sympathetic glance in hopes of softening her words. "As it is, I'm not too sure that I want anyone going but me and Giles." Noting the uproar that was stirring after her comment, she blushed, and motioned for them to stay calm. "It's nothing against anybody. It's just...you guys all lost somebody. Somebody really, really important, and you lost him because of Voldemort. As it is, Voldemort will probably be very nearby wherever Hermione is. I know it sounds horrible, but I don't know if I can trust all of you to not attack him. This isn't about revenge. Hermione's safety is on the line. Maybe her life."

"You were all content to let people go before you found out _your _friend was there." Ginny muttered resentfully from her space by the door, her arms crossed protectively in front of her.

"If you want me to say that my opinions have changed because Xander's out there, then you're right." Willow said bluntly, earning her mixed glances of anger and respect for her honesty. "I'm not some kind of emotionless superhuman, and I didn't claim to be one. But Xander might not even be there. Xander might not even be--." Willow broke off, unable to finish the thought. "Okay, this is how it's going to be. Mr. Giles, Mr. Lupin, Harry, Charlie, Fred, and I are going.

"We'll dress as Muggles, because we do _not_ want to stick out. We'll probably have to buy tickets just as all the Muggles do. I'll cast an Invisibility charm over the rest of us, and we'll sneak away. There has to be some reason Voldemort is able to continue to be stowed away in there without anyone noticing. My guess is either some kind construction, or he's put a number of Muggles under spells. We'll infiltrate _carefully_. I don't want him to know that we're there until we have Hermione out of there and to safety. When we get there, I think Harry should call the shots. I'm not familiar with Voldemort or the way anything is set up. Everyone agree?"

There was nervous shifting and voices muttering too softly to be heard, but no one objected to anything Willow had to say.

"Well said," was the only eventual response, and it unsurprisingly originated from Giles, who was wearing a look of fierce pride. "Well said, indeed."

"Alright then. Let's go."

OoOoOoO

"I'd say one thing for sure; this Voldie guy has really good bars." Xander reported, while attempting to use every ounce of his strength and body weight combined to get the bars loose without any result.

"I don't think you're really going about this the right way." Hermione said absently, glancing around for some kind of tool. Unfortunately, the cell in which she was occupied held absolutely nothing of use besides herself. Sighing dejectedly, Hermione ran through a mental checklist of everything on her person in hopes of finding something useable to get herself out.

"You have any ideas then?" Xander asked in response, annoyed and trying not to show it. This was a Willow kind of puzzle. He just wasn't locked up all that often (pardoning when possessed by hyena spirits, not that _he_ remembered _any_ such event). Maybe Oz would've been better for solving this.

"Well, if the age is anything close to my hypothesis, then yes, I think I might have an idea. See, certain aspects of modern life weren't quite as...adapted as our own now. People tend to forget that. My guess is that if we can find something suitable for the purpose, we should be able to pick the locks quite easily." Hermione answered, wondering what she had that would be applicable in the process of lock-picking. She turned slowly, surveying the cell in hopes of catching something she'd previously missed. She was disappointed to find nothing.

"Wait. Throw over your hair thing." Xander said in an excited tone after watching her turn in what was probably her twentieth circle of the evening.

Reaching up to pat her hair, she pulled out a clasped barrette. Shrugging, she threw it across the corridor and into Xander's cell. He picked it up, and broke the back off, ignoring Hermione's outcry at the movement. After a moment, she paused, coming to the understanding of what, exactly, he was doing. Driving the narrow end of the back of the clasp into the keyhole, Xander only had to work it around for several moments before being rewarded with the most satisfying noise he'd ever heard in his life.

"Click is a beautiful noise." He reported to Hermione before yanking out the back of the clasp and freeing Hermione quickly. She nodded in agreement to his assessment, and both glanced around. "Which way now?"

"Well, whenever somebody comes down here, they come from the right. So I guess we go left. We can at least avoid probable guards that way, and if it's a dead end, we can turn around." Hermione answered thoughtfully. Xander shrugged in his concurrence and the pair headed off quietly. The corridor they traveled was long, and there were many, many empty cells on either side of it. After a short while of this journeying, the came across a hopeful sight, a staircase upwards.

They continued to travel quickly and silently, thankfully not coming across anyone. The staircase seemed to go up for several stories before it reached the next landing. The stair continued, and Xander and Hermione shared a glance, silently debating whether or not to go up another level. Finally, Xander questioned the presence of a window. When it was clear that there was none, the returned to the stairs and quickly ascended. This repeated for two more landings until Hermione _did_ find a window.

The pair both glanced out to be met with one of the most beautiful sights they would ever see in their lives. A landscape spread out before them, a majestic castle wall surround gardens and beyond that was a city. It took Hermione several moments to come to the realization that something was familiar about the place.

It wasn't until Xander's cry of, "Hey! There's people!" that Hermione realized what it was. There were indeed people. He pointed at them excitedly, but Hermione wasn't focused on him. She was focused on the people. Because there was something about them that seemed very obvious to her, and yet she couldn't put a name to it. It wasn't until a car honked somewhere nearby that she realized what, exactly, it was. They were people. But they were also _people_. They were _Muggles_. And at that realization, several others were made. Foremost among them was their location.

Located in a huge city. A very, very old building. One that housed apparently many Muggles. The topper was, of course, that she'd been there before. She glanced at Xander. "How does someone hide out in one of the biggest European tourist attractions without getting caught?"

"Where are we?" Xander asked after that.

"See that?" Hermione pointed to a huge square tower that was relatively close, but apparently further inwards. Xander nodded in agreement. "That's the White Tower."

"Which means...?"

"We're in the Bloody Tower."

OoOoOoO

(a/n: I'm not sure if that was supposed to be some kind of revelation to the readers or not, but there you have it any case. I'm not feeling great right now, so I'm going to go and take a nap. But thank you all for your feedback and kind words. I really appreciate you guys. I'm sorry for the shortness, but I need to lay down.)


	19. Chapter 18

(a/n: of all of my eighteen chapters that I have posted for this story, my last has given the greatest number of unsatisfactory reviews. I'm mixed between upset and scathingly amused. I guess I could even call one of them a "flame". Usually, I take into serious account what my reviewers suggest. This is harder to do when they're too afraid to tell me who they are. I take all reviews (anonymous and signed in) alike because I'm aware some people just don't have accounts, and their criticism is just as welcome. But I don't really trust anonymous flames. That tells me that someone's too scared to tell me who he or she is. Especially when they don't leave an e-mail or an actual name in place of being signed in... some way I can contact them in turn.

(The second one was from a while ago in the story, actually. Chapter two, I believe. QuickSilver Knight was apparently abject to me using the word "warlock" in reference to a spell caster. I have the urge to answer this reviewer. If you're not interested in reading, you're of course welcome to skip to the story.

(First off, I would never address anyone as a "warlock" in real life. This is a story. I would also not address anyone as a witch or wizard in real life, as people would probably be offended at those titles, and I didn't see you mention them. On account of your "you should look the meaning of a word up before you use it" dispute, I just want you to know that I _have_ looked up the word warlock, and it's dictionary definition reads as such. "war-lock: _n._ a male witch, sorcerer, wizard, or demon. 2. a male witch or demon".

(I don't go into the historical account of every word I use. That's just stupid. The way we understand words have changed so much over time that if I attempted to go back and see what every word we use meant when it originated I'd never get so much as a sentence written. Overall, I'm sure you were just attempting to help me, but I was instead rather insulted, hence my long-ass answer. . Please don't think I'm trying to be rude, I'm just trying to explain why I used the language I used in my story. Pardoning the fact that Buffy the Vampire Slayer has, in fact, mentioned warlocks previously.)

Chapter Eighteen of Unexpected Losses.

After some argument from the accompanying Weasleys, everyone was situated in Muggle clothing. They had eventually come to decide upon a course of action. They would Floo to Arthur Weasley's office in the Ministry of Magic. After getting to the streets, they would take public Muggle transportation to the Tower of London. Willow had begun to practice her magic, making sure that she could mask the presence of so many people all at once. Everyone seemed vaguely surprised that Willow was able to do the spell. Even Giles, who hadn't realized just how far Willow's talents had progressed.

The pair had taken a few moments aside with one another to discuss where, exactly, they thought Xander would be, and in what condition he would be. Alive wasn't even a question. Giles couldn't face the possibility, and Willow would _know _if he wasn't alive. Or so, at least, she told Giles. Partially because she believed it to be the truth, but partially because she was terrified beyond belief that it _wasn't_ the truth.

It wasn't too long until they were situated to go, though, and Willow braced herself for another Floo journey. Giles grimaced for a moment but was the first to go through. Harry followed without comment, and Willow grumpily went after.

Once more shaking, Willow found herself being held upright by Harry. She was led from the fireplace entrance as the Weasleys and Lupin followed them. Apparently there was supposed to be someone there because Charlie took a few minutes to look for someone before shrugging and leading the group into the hall. A few moments later Charlie had them well and almost freed from the maze of the Ministry building.

Harry dove behind Lupin at one point, and Charlie and Fred immediately moved to flank him. Willow and Giles understood the obvious and the unspoken, and they kept up a quiet conversation while moving smoothly behind Harry, sufficiently hiding him from all view. Fred glared darkly at a well-dressed, short man as they passed one another. Willow shivered when he walked passed her, a cold feeling settling where her spine has previously resided. Though she was unaware of it, Giles took a protective step towards her and smothered a Ripper-like sneer.

Once they were outside and surprisingly via telephone book (Willow might have made a Clark Kent comment, but the thought reminded her so strongly of Xander that she had to pause and swallow a lump from her throat), everyone seemed to relax. No one wanted to really comment on the fact that they were going _into _a rescue mission and they were more relaxed than they had been in what should've been an extremely safe place for them to be. Despite the discomfort, Willow couldn't wait for more than a few moments before speaking.

"Uh…who was that?"

There was no need to ask for clarification of the individual she indicated. "That," Harry answered after a moment, "Was the most pompous idiot you will ever have the displeasure of seeing."

"Cornelius Fudge." Giles expanded at her silent look. "The Minister of Magic. Idiot if there ever has been one." The last was spoke so scathingly, Willow suppressed a grin.

"Gotcha. Snyder-esque." Willow surprised a laugh from the Watcher before she turned and led them easily to a bus stop. She paused for a moment before glancing at her bare wrist. Spotting Harry's watch, she borrowed his arm before glancing at the fact of the instrument. "We're just a few minutes early."

"Excellent, Willow," Lupin commented with an honest, though weary, smile.

"It will take us close enough to join the next tour. Once they start, I'll cast the charm and we can sneak away." Willow instructed them calmly, beaming with pleasure at Lupin's applause. Everyone nodded in understanding and quieted as a double-decker bus drew near. They boarded wordlessly, Giles paying for all of their tickets once they had. Willow surmised that they probably made an odd-looking bunch, but no more odd than any other tourists running about the city.

Fred and Charlie made a spectacle of themselves, pointing out the most odd things. Willow smothered her amusement that everyone seemed unsure whether or not they were faking their rather obvious accents or their intrigue. Most of the things they seemed to exclaim over most were everyday aspects of life in London. The bus ride passed quickly as nerves slowly built up the further they traveled. By the time they reached their stop, even Fred and Charlie had become tight-lipped and drawn.

Willow, in her seat next to Harry noticed that moment-by-moment he grew tenser. Every muscles seemed to coil tightly the closer they became. Reaching out slowly, Willow rested her hand on his knee, surprising him from his thoughts. Immediately, he relaxed, and he jerked up and smiled softly when he caught sight of her nervous glance. Willow desperately wanted to tell him not to make the encounter a battle, but she knew it was no point in doing so and that it wasn't the place to do so even if there _was _a point to it.

She blushed horribly when she felt Harry's hand cover hers, having forgot that she had even put it there because of her runaway thoughts. The bus came to a stop, though, and Harry jumped to his feet, releasing Willow quickly. She more slowly climbed to her feet and the pair of them followed Lupin and Giles off of the bus.

It was only a few minutes later that they found themselves before the imposing building that was the Tower of London. A pretty woman greeted them cheerfully and instructed them to join a nearby group, walking them there, asking practiced questions. Giles answered them politely, and the woman scuttled away once they were situated. Staying to themselves, it was a few never-ending moments until another guile - this one a young man- greeted them.

As soon as they started off, the tour guide introduced himself and began to lead them off. Every few minutes, they would stop and hear about the specifics of the room. Charlie Weasley had a look of intent thought for several minutes. It was Giles who first noticed it. Gently jabbing the redhead in the ribs, he raised an eyebrow in obvious curiosity.

"I know him." Charlie answered softly to the older man.

"What?"

"I know him. He was in my year at school," Charlie answered in the same whisper. "He was a Ravenclaw."

"Do you think he could be a Death Eater?" Giles whispered back quietly, sending the chipper young guide a curious stare. It seemed unlikely that someone so chipper and welcoming could be working for a Dark Lord.

"It would explain how Voldemort is able to hide here." Lupin reasoned from the other side of Charlie. It was obvious that he'd been listening to the pair talk. "They could more easily keep the Muggles in safer areas in the castle without raising any suspicion."

"Indeed it does make sense," Giles agreed, following the group without paying any attention whatsoever to their surroundings.

It wasn't much longer before Harry indicated that they should stop and pull away from the group. They were heading up a spiral staircase, and it would take even the most attentive tour guide a few moments to notice their disappearance, and by then they wouldn't be there. Willow cast a glance among the group before muttering the proper chant and casting the spell.

Feeling altogether like a pair of floating eyeballs, Willow stumbled forward, crashing almost immediately into someone else. "This isn't going to work." Willow reported, annoyed that she hadn't thought o the current complication. Whoever it was before her nodded in agreement and stepped back a few steps until Fred's voice rang out with a very clear "Ow!"

Something brushed against her waist and then fumbled about until it caught her hand. Willow realized after only a second that it was, in turn, another hand. "Sorry." Harry's voice from beside her announced at the hand's fumble.

"S'okay." Willow answered, glad for the invisibility at her accompanying blush. "All right. Now we need to get to the Bloody Tower, and we need to get there quickly and quietly."

"Oh. I can tell _this _is going to be _loads_ of fun." Fred muttered sarcastically. Apparently, Giles didn't appreciate the remark as he reached out and whapped Fred on the back of the head. Or attempted to, if Lupin's grunt was any indication of Giles' aim.

"Enough." Harry snapped. "We have to find Hermione now. Does anyone even know where we're supposed to be going."

"No clue on how to get there.' Willow admitted. "Do you think we should just follow the guide or make our way down on our own?"

Despite the fact that the question was directed towards Harry, Giles spoke up in response. "Perhaps it would be wise to go our separate ways. Willow, Charlie, and I can follow the group. The rest can go their own way."

"What about Willow's spell?" Fred asked. "What if we need to become visible again?"

"Good question," Giles muttered in response.

"You three stay invisible. We'll be heading away from the tour, so we should be okay," Harry answered after a moment of consideration. Willow quickly whispered the counter spell to their invisibility. Harry squeezed the still-invisible hand he held before dropping it and stepping away with an easy motion.

"Good luck you guys." Willow said, grinning, and she reached out until her hand hit an invisible, warm source. A barked laugh indicated that it was Charlie, and that he was ticklish. "Sorry," she added further, but not feeling very apologetic. Merely amused.

"Willow," Giles spoke, and Willow reached in the voice's direction. Apparently, the Watcher had the same idea, as her hand brushed his arm mid-air.

"Alright, you two. Bloody Tower tour-bound for us." Willow muttered and dragged Charlie by the front of his shirt and Giles' by his sleeve as she hurried after the tour.

Harry, Lupin, and Fred exchanged glances and then headed off, turning down a new hallway as they attempted to find their target.

OoOoOoO

"And that means exactly what?" Xander questioned, offering Hermione a confused glance.

"It means He has found a way to hide in plain sight," Hermione said, before rolling her eyes at his confused glance. "It's very, very bad." She muttered.

"I'm not stupid, I just don't get the big deal." Xander snipped defensively. "If there's lots of people here, shouldn't it be easy to, you know, _leave_?" Hermione paused at the statement, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. She reflected for a moment on Xander's statement before agreeing with the general sense of it. "Okay. So, where do we go? We can't just stumble around until we get caught, because your Voldie guy is _seriously _bad news." Xander muttered, drawing Hermione from her thoughts.

"That's true." Hermione agreed. "We should probably backtrack to the last staircase going down and head that way until we hit ground level. Maybe we'll run into someone who can help us. People who work here?"

"So long as we go somewhere. Just sitting around here is giving the me the major wiggins." Xander agreed and started walking away, leaving Hermione behind.

"Wiggins?" She mouthed at his back before hurrying to catch up. Getting separated could only be a bad thing for the moment.

OoOoOoO

"Okay, this is getting us nowhere, Herm." Xander reported shortly, knowing that they were perfectly loss, and knowing that Hermione knew it just as well. She sighed, nodding in agreement. They had stared out backtracking, but had lost their own trail and ended up with absolutely no clue where they were at the present moment.

"Don't call me Herm." Hermione muttered in response, wishing desperately for some clue as to their location.

"What's with you people and nicknames?" Xander muttered aloud, thinking of Giles and the dreaded "G-man" title. Hermione looked ready to respond, and didn't seem to notice an approaching shadow until Xander launched himself at her. He pulled her to a wall, covering her mouth with his hand to smother any comments that she seemed ready to make. She froze instantly when she saw Bellatrix Lestrange.

Tears pooled in her eyes when she realized what the woman was doing. She was walking slowly down the hallway, muttering under her breath. She still held Ron's wand, and it was poised in the air for reasons Hermione couldn't understand for a few moments. Until Bellatrix passed them. Behind her floated a still form, and Hermione's heart skipped several beats upon recognizing it. She fell back weakly against Xander, who cursed so quietly, Hermione wasn't sure he even spoke. The inert form of Ron floated behind Bellatrix as she walked.

Hermione struggled against Xander's grasp, wanting to get to Ron no matter the danger. Xander wouldn't budge an inch, though, and Bellatrix disappeared around the corner after a moment. Hermione crumpled, misery flooding through her in a way that paralyzed any tears that she might have had left. Xander pulled her to her feet and slowly began creeping after the woman. Hermione couldn't figure out anything to say to him, and couldn't work out the ability.

"Let's get him." Xander whispered softly to her. "We shouldn't leave him here."

Hermione finally managed to find her feet and followed the American teenager down after Lestrange. Their journey took less time than it felt to either of them. They managed to track the witch by hovering around corners behind her until she turned the next. After a while, they found themselves in another area of cells. These were darker and danker than where Hermione, Ron, and Xander had all begun. Both shivered as they sneaked in. Once more, Xander pulled Hermione against a wall and behind a door as Lestrange left, this time without Ron.

"He's in here." Hermione whispered brokenly. She ran forward, breaking easily through Xander's weak hold. Hermione flung herself down the hallway. Xander followed the footsteps until they stopped. He found Hermione kneeling next to the still body of what could only have been Ron. Xander wanted to throw up when he laid eyes on the boy. The redhead's skin was nearly gray, and dark wounds stood darkly against his flesh. He lay on his own awkwardly positioned arm. It was obvious that it was broken beneath him.

"Ron." Hermione whispered to him, trying to smother her emotion.

"Herm. We still have to get out of here." Xander glanced around, and he spotted something that instilled within him a degree of hope. "Isn't that that stick she had?"

"Ron's wand?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Indeed, thrown haphazardly against the wall was Ron's wand. Upon closer inspection, though, the Unicorn hair was missing. Hermione wilted as quickly as she'd bloomed when she realized it. "I can't leave him."

"Okay." Xander said simply. He walked to the redhead's other side, and scooped up the dead weight. For a moment he nearly toppled over, but apparently, the necessity gave him the strength he needed for the moment. Hermione sniffled once more, and turned on her heel, unable to look at the body any longer.

A painful moment of silence later, and Hermione began leading Xander once more. They had to get out.

There was no other option.

OoOoOoO

(a/n: my laptop is broken, hence the forever it took up to update. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. I'm not sure when I'll get the next one up because I have to use the family computer, and my chances to do that are like…yeah, nonexistent? So, woo. Thanks, everyone, for your comments!)


	20. Chapter 19

(a/n: wow. I guess before I start this chapter, I should go ahead and answer some reviews this time, as well. Hrm.

(_Nixi the Pixi _and/or _NixNox_. Not sure which one you prefer. I guess first off, thank you for trying to explain further. I guess the way the first review was phrased bothered me quite a bit. Maybe it was the fact that the first time the "possibly insulting" term had been brought up was sixteen chapters later. I'm not sure. Maybe I was in a bad mood, or maybe it was because they used the worst phrase ever in "no offense, but…". You know, I've never heard that phrase uttered without having it been followed by something incredibly rude (hence the fact I braced myself for that kind of attitude)? Anyway, as it is, I'm sorry if anyone's insulted. I used it because 1. there was no other available term. 2. because the dictionary told me I could and 3. because Buffy'd used it before. Maybe not in the context of a male Wicca, but at least in the sense of a male magic practitioner. Anyway, if I have lost reviewers over it, I'm sure none of them are here to listen to apologize, and I'm pleased that at least _you'll_ keep reading. I'm not a huge, faultless, fantabulous writer. None of the above, in fact. I make mistakes. But I don't have the time or ability to go back and think of another word. Maybe once the story is complete. I'll definitely not be bringing in the term anymore in the story, but there's not much more I can do on top of that. I don't even have the computer I wrote chapter 2 _on_ anymore. Anyway, I'm sorry for _this _ramble. They just kinda creep on ya, don't they? Anyway, I just definitely want to let out a "thank you" for trying to get _any_ concept through my skull. ;x

(_Damia_: As for going after Bella instead of Ron. Heh. Hermione's interests are focused on something entirely unfathomable to me. I guess maybe it's a psychological thing. She has to see the truth for herself? Anyway, I'd do the same as you…except I'd probably drag Xander _with _me!

(_bobkat2007_: Trust me. I'm dying for them to get out of the Tower soon, too. You're definitely not alone. It'll be soon. Trust me.

(_IsiwaruofCkaloatia_: I almost have your name memorized! Woo! Glad you enjoyed yet another chapter. Don't be sad. There are happy things coming! Kinda!

(_Ezmerelda_: I loved your review. So far as I know, it's a stupid school standard "No child left behind"…or a really bad movie quote. –**ponders-** Anyway, aww. I didn't mean for it to be all that. It just kind of…was: I'm glad you enjoyed.

(_M'Naria: _Hello sweetie. 3 Thank you for your input, and for being able to put my argument into words when I cannot. Thanks for sticking up for me. I needed it.

(_Pamie884_: Lovely hearing from you, and I'm glad that you enjoyed the chapter and the story.

(_Village-Mystic: _You're welcome for the continuation! -grins-. Heh. I love Willow. I think she's just an utterly adorable character.

(_sweetypie15_ Thank you for another review, I'm always glad to hear from you!

(_CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur_: Thank you for your review! I'm stealing the family computer for the moment, and I'm hoping that my laptop will be repaired by sometime next week. My parents went to Massachusetts, and I know that it won't be better until after they return because, simply, they have the money, and I don't.)

Chapter Nineteen of Unexpected Losses

Willow dragged Charlie and Giles by feel alone until she caught sight of the tour group. Embarrassed by her take-charge loss of control, Willow lowly cleared her throat. The tour guide was frowning for the first time since he'd greeted the group. He glanced over the number of people twice, before narrowing his eyes and then shrugging. He smiled brightly at the group again, but there seemed to be a damper on his previously jubilant attitude.

"Did anyone notice anyone fall behind in the group?" Everyone turned to one another, slowly shaking their heads, noting that they had been paying more attention to the tour than each other. "Very well." He shrugged and turned, muttering quietly into a walkie-talkie. After noting to the rest of the guides that there were possible tourists that had lost their group, he commenced walking.

"When are we going to see the Bloody Tower?" Willow took a risk in asking aloud, after worming herself into a group of other people. As soon as the words left her mouth, she hurried back to her previous place, arms out in front of her to make sure that she didn't walk into either of her two comrades, seeing as how she'd never know if they'd moved while she was speaking.

"Ah, well, yes. We're going to be heading in that direction in a short while. First we're going to be visiting the Bell Tower and the Queen's house. Then we'll go from the Bloody Tower to the White Tower and the Site of the Block, where a number of executions have taken place in t he past." Everyone began whispering quietly to one another at the word "executions" and it was obvious that they were getting restless with their current environment. "Let's get started then."

Willow slowly began following the group, wondering if Giles would be angry about the risk she'd taken, or if he was attempting to glower at the wrong place to express his displeasure. The mental image made her want to giggle, but she focused instead on _why_ they were there, and it sedated her almost instantly.

Tuning in to the actual tour, because just thinking was bound to drive her insane, Willow listened attentively to the historical value of the castle in which she found herself. The further along they went, the more she had to wonder _how_ Voldemort could've taken over such a public and famous Muggle area. Sure, to have the staff working for him would be helpful. But surely the Royal Family among other people should have more a hold.

This train of thought took her to wondering whether high-up Muggle positions were given knowledge of the Wizarding World, and what kind of danger that would result in if the wrong people found out. It wasn't long in Willow's mind until they found themselves on the way to the Bloody Tower. A rough hand touched her back, and Willow knew it was Charlie. Nodding uselessly in turn, she stopped walking until the tour group was out of sight. Charlie's hand still on her back reassured her that she wasn't alone.

Waiting until the sound of the tour group also dissipated, Willow muttered the counter-curse, as was according to plan. Willow allowed a brief wave of fatigue sweep across her, before recollecting herself. Holding a spell for such a length of time over all three of them had exhausted her for a short while. She would regain herself quickly, but knew she had to stay with Giles and Charlie until then, because even the simplest spell would be difficult to cast in her present condition.

As if knowing all that; Willow found herself being supported by Giles, who gave her a proud look, which Willow took a moment to bask in. "Alright." She began slowly, unwilling to tax herself until totally necessary. "Which way do we go from here?"

"Well, we can follow the tour a little while longer, or at least head in their direction. Until we see the cells." Giles answered, earning himself a confused look from the other two. "I've been on the tour before. They take you partially through some of the cells. They take you to the room of the two princes, and then they take you on," he clarified shortly.

"Okay, then." Willow agreed, and with Giles's assistance, they made their way onward. Each of the three was on alert. Getting caught now could be very dangerous for all of them, and if they were there was a good chance that they wouldn't be able to slip away again. Hearing their guide telling the story of the two princes that were lost to the Bloody Tower, and the remains possibly found later, Giles led them down another hallway.

Willow smothered a gasp realizing just how literally Giles meant it when he mentioned cells. There were lining the walls, and she suppressed a shiver. To be forced to live in one of them…even for a short while…it was a horrible thought to consider, but her mind couldn't seem to focus on anything else. Was that where Harry's friends were placed? Until Ron died, was he stuck in the dark, dank cage? Charlie seemed to be thinking along the same lines as his jaw was clenched and his eyes continued to flash.

Willow stood from Giles's support, and she approached the Weasley. "Hermione." She said softly, placing her hand on Charlie's arm, feeling him relax, much like Harry had earlier in the day.

"Hermione first." Charlie agreed, and kept moving, mind focused clearly on Hermione rather than what would come after. Because as much as he liked Hermione, Ron was his brother. And his brother was dead. And someone was going to pay for it.

OoOoOoO

"They look for Hermione." Harry said shortly. "You can do the same if you want to. But I'm going to look for Voldemort." Lupin seemed, momentarily, as if he was going to object, but then nodded. There wouldn't be any convincing Harry of otherwise, and it would be better if he didn't let Harry go on his way alone. Fred didn't even bother thinking of an objection.

They turned down another corridor, and found a row of windows. Outside was a huge building, nestled within the outer walls. "He'll be there." Harry said knowingly, and set about finding a set of stairs that would lead them down and out. Unsure of how he knew where Voldemort would be, his mind considered the topic for a few minutes. He just shrugged after a moment, and he continued leading the way, grateful that neither Lupin nor Fred had seen it necessary to ask him why he believed as he did.

It was surprisingly simple to find their way outside, and it was also barren of any guards, which really worried the trio. What they didn't know, however, was that most of them were off looking for the people that had lost their tour group. It was thus exceedingly simple for them to find their way to the White Tower, where Harry believed Voldemort to be hiding.

It wasn't overly difficult to enter the White Tower. Unfortunately, there were no signs reading "Voldemort This Way", leading them to more of what felt more like useless wandering than searches. They were subjected to the same surroundings that they'd suffered since entering the Tower of London, granted that their present surroundings seemed a bit older.

Once more they began wandering about. Twice they were forced to dive into nearby corridors to avoid being caught by people passing. Most of them seemed to be very annoyed, and a few were wearing nametags, announcing that they were employees, which meant nothing to Harry, Lupin, or Fred other than they were to be avoided. That was a general rule for anyone that they saw, though.

Harry paused, and quieted his already silent comrades with a look when a familiar individual crossed their path though. After firmly ignoring Fred's dirty look at his silencing movement, Harry inched around the corner, only to pull back when someone hurriedly walked by. "Find the witch, bring the boy, put him back, and bring him back. I should've killed him when I had the chance. Muggle impudence. Lie to the Dark Lord."

The tall, slender form of Lucius Malfoy turned a corner somewhere to their left, and Harry glanced at the other two. "Xander?" He guessed aloud, earning nodding agreement from the other pair. They hurried in the direction from which Lucius had come, knowing that he would've come directly from the Dark Lord. "At least he's alive."

"Not for too long, from the sounds of it." Lupin retorted, earning a frown of agreement from Harry. "What do you think he meant by 'Lie to the Dark Lord'?"

"One way to find out." Harry answered, and he continued to sneak towards the place that Voldemort was most likely to be. Lupin and Fred were fast on his heels. Surprisingly, there were no more guards nearby, which was almost as nerve-wracking as avoiding them might've been. It felt more like a trap with the lack of resistance. They took more time than they might have otherwise, but reaching their goal was still surprisingly quick.

Finding themselves eventually before a huge set of double-doors that reached the ceiling, they finally paused in their hurried pursuit. A strangled sound of yelling echoed through the door. Due to the door's thickness alone, it was quite an accomplishment. Just as Harry was about to open the door, it slowly began opening of its own accord. Lupin immediately grabbed at the two younger men before him and tugged them backwards, but Harry was almost immediately free again.

There were three figures in the room. One was the tall, skeletal self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort. Next to him was the hunched over, sniveling Peter Pettigrew, who was far better known as Wormtail. It was the last that stopped Harry, Fred, and Lupin cold, despite how far they'd managed to come. Because in the middle of the room was the silvered, familiar form of a lanky, freckled Ron Weasley.

OoOoOoO

Xander refused to tell Hermione that he was getting tired. Ron wasn't the lightest guy to carry around, and added the fact that it was all just dead weight didn't help in the least. One look at the girl told him everything that he needed to know, and he knew, too, that he couldn't give up. Sheer will was all that kept Hermione going, and she deserved to get the same strength from Xander.

She led Xander slowly, their previously frantic pace forgotten in the face of resignation that flowed to her very core. Even with Xander's knowledge of the Weasley's clock, part of Hermione refused to believe what he'd said. She had to know for herself if it was the truth. Once, Hermione had placed the same faith in books as she now put in her own senses. After all, who would bother publishing lies? Experience had taught her the answer to that question was "a lot of people."

What was one more lie? From a stranger, who couldn't possibly understand the message he was trying to convey? But there was the proof now. She had touched him, felt the coldness that was all that remained of his prior warmth. Ron hated being cold. Irrationally, she wondered how he would take being that cold, or how he would feel about not being able to eat anymore. It was all so stupid, but she couldn't get her mind off the questions.

Hermione smothered a hysterical giggle at her own nonsensicalness. She hated things that weren't rational or neat or easily explained. Ron dying was so far out of the category, it was beyond all comprehension to the usually genius witch. She merely kept walking, wondering how she was going to explain death to Ron, despite the fact that he was the one that was gone. It was all so very stupid.

Hermione was called back to reality from her thoughts at the sight of cells on either side of the corridor. They'd managed to walk in a huge circle. They were back where they started. She suppressed a shiver. Officially deciding that she _hated_ cells, she continued onward, unwilling to pause another moment in the dungeon. The echo of approaching footsteps was like a punch in the gut, and Hermione felt the oddest urge just to reel back. Whoever it was seemed to be mumbling angrily to him or herself, and the voice was oddly familiar. No matter the situation, there was no way that this could be a pleasant encounter.

She gave Xander a firm look, and jerked her head behind her in indication that they should turn around. Before they even had a chance to do so, Hermione saw who it was. She could've wept with relief. The familiar form of Charlie Weasley rounded the corner and stopped cold at seeing her. A redheaded girl about Hermione's age, and an older bespectacled man followed them, but Hermione paid neither of them the least bit of attention.

Charlie quickly approached the fuzzy-haired brunette. Slowly, almost disbelievingly, he wrapped his arms around her in a protective hug. She eagerly clung to him in return. Charlie was the first person she saw that she knew. Granted, Xander seemed to be very much on her side, but it wasn't the same as someone she knew and trusted. Charlie pulled away from her, and immediately checked her over for any obvious injuries, and was relieved to find that she was free of them.

He glanced to Xander, and Xander's burden, and Charlie fought the urge to vomit. Slowly, he approached the smaller teen, who reverently passed the redhead over to him.

"Oh, Goddess." The redhead whispered from next to the older man, stumbling back into him. "Is that--?"

"Ron." Charlie whispered, finishing her sentence and giving her a positive answer all in one word. "Thank you." He directed this last at Xander, who nodded briefly before walking over to Willow and Giles. He hugged Willow firmly, before reluctantly letting go. Surprisingly, Giles paused for a moment before _he_ hugged Xander; a sigh of relief slipping unnoticed passed his lips. Xander hugged the Watcher in return, feeling suddenly as safe as he would've in Sunnydale.

The five of them began backtracking from Willow, Giles, and Charlie's origination, determined once more to get out. They were stopped shortly into their journey by footsteps approaching once more. This time, the person was none-too-friendly. Malfoy gave them a cold glare as he entered, especially Xander.

"Lucius." Giles greeted the man, and he was pleased to note the blonde man's confusion.

"Ripper?" Lucius asked after a moment of confusion.

"You really attacked the wrong Muggles." Giles replied coolly, belying his anger and tenseness. "You see, Xander and Willow are like my children. And you know how I can be."

"You may have been frightening at school, Ripper. But you were expelled, and I have surpassed anything you may have accomplished by far." Lucius answered, brandishing his wand at them.

"You have no idea what I've accomplished since I left Hogwarts, Malfoy." Giles answered. Charlie and Hermione both regarded the librarian with confused glances, wondering who he was and when he had been at Hogwarts. "I suggest, though, that you lead us out of here before I am forced to kill you." There was no lie in Giles's words. Willow and Xander easily sensed that and put themselves on edge to stop the Watcher. Regardless of what they needed to do now, they wouldn't allow their father-like figure do such harm. Even to an enemy.

"You seem to be on the wrong side of the War to be serious." Lucius answered coldly, but there was an edge to his voice that contradicted his confidence.

"I'm not on either side of this war. I have what I've come for." Giles motioned towards Xander and Willow. "I have no need for anything or anyone else. Now. Lead us out of here or –." Giles didn't even bother to finish his sentence before he flung himself bodily towards Lucius, drawing a dagger from the inner pocket of his jacket as he did so.

Shocked, Lucius Malfoy backed away, attempting to dodge the surprisingly quick Watcher. It was no use, though. He wasn't prepared for the attack, and Giles managed to bury all four inches of the dagger into Lucius's shoulder. The blond-haired man screamed at the pain, and jerked away, causing the wound to only grow larger.

"Come now, Lucius, you know better than to move if you've been stabbed." Giles tsked, firmly ignoring any and all reactions from his audience of four, which was rather ranged. From approval from Charlie to a mix of displeasure and cruel satisfaction from Willow, there was no lack of those reactions.

"Damn you, Ripper."

"You see, you should be more polite, Malfoy. Now. How do we get out of here?" Lucius didn't answer, instead Apparating from where he ended up on the ground. "Damn." Giles announced.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Charlie demanded, making sure to keep himself in between Hermione and the Watcher.

"That was Giles attempting to get us out of here." Xander replied. "And doing a pretty good job at the being scary if I do say so myself."

Giles flushed at the obvious approval he'd earned from Xander. Usually the boy, not outwardly respectful, teased him rather than praised him. "Well, I've waited a very long time to see Lucius Malfoy again. And we can discuss that further at a later point in time. Let us find Harry and the rest and get _out _of this _bloody_ castle."

(a/n: done for this installment. I hope that all of you like it. Seeing as my parents _are_ in Massachusetts, I'm hoping that I can get another chapter up before they come home. Love to all, and thank you for your reviews and responses and all that good stuff. .)


	21. Chapter 20

(a/n: This is Chapter 20. Technically, it's the 21st. Overall, ladies and gentlemen, we've reached more than 100 pages of Unexpected Losses. And the journey's going to be ending soon. Thank you for hanging on with me this long, and not killing me for not posting for months at a time. Thank you for your applause and your criticism. Thank you for reviewing, and if you read and didn't review, I wish you would, but I can understand the not. ;x Anyway, off on another whirlwind adventure with…it's…actually, it's not whoever I got that from. Can't remember whom, exactly. In any case, I hope that you enjoy. P.S. to _IsiwaruofCkaloatia: _sorry sugar, you were close, but you've missed the banana. ;)

(argh, I didn't want to do responses this time! ;x _Nixi_: Yeah, I've done quite a bit of thinking myself, but frankly, I'm not really going to change my mind. Like _M'Naria_ said, it's like the word gay. Once upon a time, if you called somebody gay, they might've agreed or whatever, but now it's a sort-of insult. Gay meant happy, now it's slang for homosexual, which amuses me, frankly. But I'm not complaining that it's an insult now. The meaning's changed, and no matter what I have to say about it will change the fact. Just like warlock may used to mean something, the meaning's different now. And I still promise not to actually address anyone by the title! And thank you for your rambles and your comments. I like them. –grins-.)

Chapter Twenty of Unexpected Losses

In the middle of the room was the silvered, familiar form of a lanky, freckled Ronald Weasley. Harry, Fred, and Lupin stared stupidly for several minutes. When Lucius Malfoy Apparated in the middle of the room, though, everyone seemed to be broken from their hold. The blonde man was bleeding from his shoulder, attempting to staunch the flow with his other hand. Immediately upon entering the room, he knelt.

"My Lord." He said softly, a weakening of his voice testament to his pain.

"What now, Lucius, has you crawling back to me in your own blood?" Voldemort sneered at the man. He seemed about to say more until snickering silenced him. He turned his glare on the slightly translucent Ron, who stood very next to Malfoy and stared deeply at his wound.

"Now that bugger _had_ to hurt." Ron spoke conversationally, his voice ringing out around the room. "Wonder how you managed that one. Does it still sting? Was it a spell or not? I mean…I've never _seen_ a spell that could do that, but I'm pretty sure that there is one. That's looks a lot like what happened earlier. Rather than deep, they were kinda long. I should ask Hermione. She knows these kinds of things. Speaking of Hermione--."

"Shut _up_." Voldemort snarled out at the teenager.

"Well, now, maybe if you didn't go about killing people you wouldn't have to deal with the consequences." Ron was apparently _greatly_ enjoying annoying the Dark Lord. He wasn't sure exactly what had been going on. Merely, he knew that the pain he'd been in consumed him until he had to rest his eyes. When he reopened them, he didn't hurt in the least. He merely stood from his body and kept on going. Not to say that it wasn't disturbing.

But as far as he knew, there was no real way to eradicate a ghost. And annoyance from him was the very least that the Dark Lord deserved. In fact, he was pretty sure that no one had given the man any sign of disagreement at all besides the annual visit with Harry. He didn't take to it well; especially not criticism, which Ron had always had in abundance. He was only too glad to share.

It was rather disconcerting to be able to pass through things and to not feel. He'd never realized how many things he felt all the time and paid no attention to. Air moving against his skin, or the solid feel of stone underneath his sneakers, the feel of sunshine -- or in the current environment: dampness. He did rather wish he was more dressed up. To be eternally in ripped jeans and a maroon sweater and sneakers…and all the blood! Granted, no one would be able to tell that his sweater was maroon, as the rips from the curses that had been inflicted were still visible, and a silver coat of blood seemed be most everywhere. The cuts were still visibly open, and he could easily see into the opening. It seemed odd that he felt no pain.

His hair was mussed, but he'd thankfully been able to push it down to some effect. He _could _feel himself, which was odd, but no weirder than most anything else he was enduring at the moment. Shrugging from his thoughts, he turned to continue his mocking until he saw the three uninvited guests in the doorway. Rarely had he been so overjoyed to see anyone, ever. Regardless of his current ghost-state, he needed Hermione to be okay, and they could find her. He couldn't bear to find her in the state he was in. Because telling her of his own death…being a ghost? Without being able to touch or hold her? It was worse than even being dead in the first place (and it was pretty damn horrid on its own).

"Ron?" Harry asked from the doorway, disbelieving.

"In the flesh. Well, not, but yeah." Ron answered, blundering over usually easy words. Voldemort glared up at the Boy-Who-Lived. There seemed to be a mix of sick satisfaction and annoyance at his presence. Something, actually, that Ron didn't understand, as the man had previously been ranting about how his trap would "lure him from his defenses". It seemed to go right along with his plan. Except for Ron dying. That wasn't supposed to happen.

"Boy." Voldemort said coldly from his chair, which had been erected something like a throne. Pettigrew, in the presence of the Dark Lord, was for once not quivering in fear, as he usually did whenever Harry or Lupin was nearby. This didn't stop the werewolf from glowering darkly at the shorter man, though. Harry's attention turned to the goal he initially set out after, and Fred couldn't tear his eyes away from the ghost of his brother.

All the wounds that he'd suffered were clearly visible, and yet Ron had no physical reaction to them. Between the two coinciding, the twin was confused as to what, exactly, he should've been feeling. Actually, Ron's presence threw all of them off kilter. Their righteous anger just wasn't as strong with Ron about making stupid comments and just…being there.

"Professor Kehoe is Bellatrix." Ron informed Harry darkly, and just that quickly, the anger was back for him. "Have you found Hermione?"

"The others are looking for her. I'm here to end this." Harry answered, focused entirely on the Dark Lord. The anger from merely hearing Bellatrix Lestrange's name was coursing through his veins, and he felt as if he could annihilate Voldemort with his will alone. The loss of his godfather had nearly destroyed him. He had gone so far as to cast an Unforgivable curse, and couldn't honestly say that he entirely regretted the action.

"So you've said before, boy." Voldemort answered, standing.

"Master." Lucius managed weakly, from where he finally stood. Blood still coated the front of his robes, and he seemed to be weakening from the lack of it.

"_What_?" Voldemort hissed at him, still keeping eye contact with Harry, unwilling to lose the staring match that Harry had seemed to instigate.

"There are others." Lucius reported. "They've found--."

"Then find and _stop_ them." Voldemort replied, turning to Lucius, displeasure radiating from his inhuman red gaze. The blonde man winced and nodded, kneeling once more. Harry was still staring coldly at Voldemort, unwilling to tear his eyes away. "But before you do that. Take care of the ones still _here_."

"_Curatio_." Malfoy muttered, standing. The blood seemed to staunching itself, and though the wound didn't seem to be healing at all, the pain must've stopped bothering the man, as he stood straight without any obvious repercussions. He quickly approached Lupin and Fred, who were standing very close to the door, unlike Harry who'd entered the room by quite a bit.

Lupin didn't wait for Malfoy to reach them before tossing the first curse. "_Adustum Orbis_." A fireball about the size of a Quaffle formed at the tip of Lupin's wand, and soared towards Malfoy, who dissipated it with a counter curse. Fred thought furiously about what could help, but was distracted when the far from honorable Peter Pettigrew sent a _Petrificus Totalus _cursebehind him.

Fred sent the rat a glare that the Weasley family seemed to have reserved especially for the man that had posed as a pet for over a decade. True to character, this seemed to unnerve Wormtail slightly, and he flushed, glancing eagerly about for a way out of danger. With a slightly amused light in his eyes, Fred muttered a spell, waving his wand towards Wormtail. In the heat of duels, many wizards felt the urge to scream out their curses. But when a whisper worked as well, Fred knew the advantage was with him. Wormtail seemed to have an imagination on him, and knowing that he was about to be subjected to a curse would fill his imagination with things more dreadful than Fred could manage.

Then again, it was almost funny to see him panic before the spell that supplied Fred and George with one of their rather problematic pieces of merchandise. Puking Pastilles. Wormtail found himself retching horribly, and definitely unable to cast anymore spells until Fred cast the counter curse. For the Weasley Wizard Wheezes, he and George were forced to come up with a number of their own spells and the Puking Pastilles caused them a certain amount of grief, until they were able to perfect it. This led Wormtail to a rather unfortunate position.

Attention focused away from Wormtail, he turned to see Lupin and Malfoy still dodging and throwing curses at one another. Due to Malfoy's rather hindering wound, Lupin started with the advantage. Unfortunately, Lucius's willingness to perform dark spells as easily light, that advantage was somewhat less outstanding. Lupin was using everything that came to mind, leaving Malfoy to use a shield in his defense. This attack pattern left Lupin wasting his energy on nothing, a fact he quickly realized before he paused in his attack

At something of a standstill, the two wizards regarded each other frigidly. After a short pause, Lucius Malfoy summoned all his concentration, and started his own assault. Until Ron glided over (figuring out his lack of need to walk as he did so) and put his arm through Malfoy's face. Most people haven't even met ghosts, and a few unfortunates at Hogwarts castle and elsewhere have felt the disturbing chill of walking _through_ a ghost. But fewer still have had a ghost's forearm shot directly through their head. Probably next to none.

The brain - though the nerve center of humans - isn't directly capable of feeling, but the prolonged, unearthly feeling of a ghost through one almost seems to freeze thought. Much like the pain of a headache as a result of eating something cold too quickly, it stabs and severely constricts the brain's ability to commence thought. Malfoy, suffering this pain, wasn't particularly able to correctly cast the spells he wanted to use against Lupin. Nor, really, could he seem to recall anything pardoning the pain that wouldn't let up.

Lupin took the chance to cast a simple _Petrificus Totalus_ at the man, which caused him to topple over. Lupin didn't dare tear his eyes away from the man, though, knowing of Lucius's ability to get himself out of apparently inescapable situations (and unscathed beyond that). He refused to take a chance on another miracle escape.

Fred took no such reservations, nor did Ron. Both turned to see what Voldemort and Harry were doing, and how they were faring. Astonishingly, despite their respective wishes to destroy the other, neither one seemed to have uttered so much as a single curse. Not entirely unsurprising, though, seeing as how no matter the curse, the wands would deflect one another. Whereas Voldemort might've been able to overpower Harry in the graveyard where he'd ascended, Harry had two years to progress in strength, and it wouldn't be so easy for the older wizard to overpower him.

For the moment, all was still at a standstill.

OoOoOoO

Willow and the rest of her group (Charlie now burdened with Ron's body, giving Xander a well-deserved break) were heading off once more. Charlie seemed to trust Giles perfectly, prior to his Ripper display in dealing with Lucius Malfoy, but now seemed very wary of the older man. Hermione wasn't reacting to too much of anything any longer, and was staring blankly at nothing while she walked. Everyone kept an eye on her, just to make sure that she kept up with the rest of the group.

Since Lucius's Dissapparation, they were all waiting for repercussion. Some kind of assault on them due to their intrusion, and Giles's attack. There didn't seem to be any, which simply put them even further on edge. Though they didn't speak, wishing to keep their movements as quiet as possible, there was a silent dispute being carried out.

They were unsure about what actions they should take. Their goal was to get Hermione, and get out. But in the general plan, they didn't split up, and so they were unsure whether or not they should go and find the other half of their group. They hadn't accounted for the size of the castle either. Even if they _did _go in search for the others, there was no telling of where they would be or how long it would take to find them. Add the fact that they were carting Ron with them, and the fact that tour groups were hanging about everywhere; there was no saying how dangerous remaining was going to be.

It was apparently decided that they would stay, though, and Giles pulled all of them to the side. "My suggestion is that we head to the White Tower. It's the most protected area in the castle. If I were hiding from anyone, no matter whom, that's probably where I would go," he whispered to the group before him. "Is that acceptable for everyone?"

"Let's go." Charlie nodded in agreement. "Do you know the way?"

"I'm fairly certain." Giles answered shortly. In truth, it had been a number of years since he'd last been in the Tower of London, and he'd honestly not been paying overly much attention to where they were going in light of a highly attractive tour guide, who apparently like to flirt as much as he had. Cursing his misspent youth, not for the first time, Giles began ignoring his runaway thoughts, and started walking once more, trusting the others to follow.

Surprising himself with his own sense of direction and awareness concerning where they were supposed to go, Giles led them easily to the White tower, with only a single near-miss with another tour group. The group nearly froze as one once they entered the inner structure. Lucius Malfoy was lying on the floor, petrified, while Remus Lupin pinned the felled man in his gaze. Peter Pettigrew seemed to be heaving in a corner of the room, apparently not even bothering to attempt any kind of escape. Fred Weasley was standing next to what was apparently the ghost of the boy Charlie was holding, and Harry Potter was standing across from Lord Voldemort, neither one of them making any move.

Ron was the only one who seemed to take real notice of their entrance. He turned towards them, and froze at the sight of Charlie's burden. Because despite the fact that he was aware that he was a ghost, there was something so final about seeing…himself that sent a spike of fear to his very core.

Charlie and Hermione froze where they stood, both staring unblinkingly at Ron; meanwhile the three from Sunnydale each seemed to be concentrating on different things. Like Charlie and Hermione, Xander stared at Ron, knowing who he was from having carried the boy for as long as he had. Giles joined Remus in staring at a fiercely glaring Lucius. Willow was focused on her roommate, however, and the wizard he stood facing. She could feel the magic radiating from this man, and it terrified her. Had Giles been paying as much attention as she did, he would've been almost as scared. As it was, his own anger was quite distracting for him.

Ron still wasn't moving. When Hermione approached him, though, he seemed to start to attention. She paused a few feet away from him, fresh tears coursing down her cheeks. In the past few hours, she'd cried more than she had in the past several years of her life. Ron seemed to be uncertain about what he should do. Instinct told him to hug her, but he simply wasn't able to, as much as he wanted to. Even, really, if he could, he was scared that he might hurt her as he'd hurt Lucius just before.

"You-you're still--." Hermione broke off, unable to think of the words she wanted to say. Emotions were swirling beneath the surface so quickly she felt nauseated and lost. Relief that such a mark remained. She couldn't handle being completely alone. Fear that Ron was in the situation he was in. Would he have to stay in the Tower forever? Anger that he would do something as stupid as give up, like Bellatrix said he had. Anger at herself for thinking such horrid thoughts. Mostly, it all seemed to whirl together into a mass of confusion.

"Are you hurt?" Ron was every bit as confused. He couldn't even answer her with a definitive answer, regardless of agreement or disagreement.

"I don't know." Hermione answered unhappily. Ron seemed to understand, though, because he just nodded.

Xander started from his momentary shock at seeing a ghost, and he made his way towards Giles. Despite the fact that Giles seemed to be focused on Lucius, and quite intently, Xander was looking towards Harry and Voldemort. The animosity between them was starting to peak, and Xander couldn't understand why neither one made a move. Assuming that it was related to being wizards, he decided Giles was probably his best source of the information.

Unfortunately, Giles revealed that he wasn't sure when asked, which made Lupin look very smug. Xander rolled his eyes, knowing that whatever had taken place when they were in school together was the source of their shared bitterness. He was currently dating the object of the "I Hate Cordelia Club (of which he'd been treasurer)," and the two _adults _in the situation didn't want to grow up and at east pretend to get along.

The doors slammed open, drawing every individual in the room's attention, including Harry and Voldemort's. More dangerous for Harry, as he had his back to the door, but it seemed instinct to look. There, seeming tiny underneath the huge arch that housed the doors, they stood. Voldemort assumed that it would be Bellatrix Lestrange, and others simply were unsure of who it would be. None had expected the truth. Because in the doorway was neither witch nor wizard.

It was Buffy.

OoOoOoO

(a/n: Lord. I could swear I was trying to screw myself up if I didn't know I wasn't. –sighs-. I hope that everybody liked the chapter. Thanks for all your responses thus far.)


	22. Chapter 21

(a/n: I've been informed that there's been some grammatical stuff wrong with my story. –is embarrassed-. Unfortunately for me, I don't have a solid beta, so I do what I can. I miss stuff, reading my own work, seeing as my brain puts it right. Anyway, thanks for informing me, and I'll try to do better at catching it. I've had a beta-offer, and I'm going to take it, ASAP. Until then, I'll do my best.

(_sweetypie15_. I just wanted to say a quick something before I start the chapter. While I'm really pleased that you reviewed Better to Die than to Crawl, as far as I know, the muse who gave me that story idea came around, got me to chapter eight, and then informed me that I could merrily go screw myself before it ran away quickly. Very quickly. And laughing maniacally. So far as I know, that story is on a permanent hiatus. Depending on what's going on 'round my head, I may or not play with it a little more after I finish Unexpected Losses. Chances are…don't depend on it, but thank you for the kind words anyway.

_(Internal Dragon_: Over the year or so that I've been writing this, I've gotten a lot of reviews. I've gotten my fair share of death threats, threats of pain, and attempted bribery with cookies and other sweets including no-flour chocolate cake. Not that I really understand that, but there you have it. Never have I been offered a blood sacrifice. : That totally made my day when I got your review. Thanks.

(_zayra_: Loved the review, made me giggle like hell. There aren't anywhere near enough Willow-centric stories, under this section or any other ones. I adore her character. She's such fun to write! On top of my babble, you're my 400th reviewer. Congratulations. Chapter Twenty-One is dedicated to you. : Thanks so much! (Oh, and I love your name!).)

Chapter Twenty-One of Unexpected Losses

All five foot and some inches of Buffy Summers seemed to grow to magnificent heights as she stepped into the room, the heels of her boots clicking smartly on the stone. "Okay." She announced in an irritated tone. "Do you people have _any_ idea what I've just been through? I have to sneak off a freaking airplane. Do I even get to go back through the gate? _No_. I get to jump out the end of the stupid terminal. I broke a nail doing it, too. Then there's the airport guy who tries to run me over with his…cart thing. And then I have to get to Giles's house, which, mind you, I don't know the address to.

"I only have normal money, so I have to try to explain to the taxi-guy why, exactly, he should let me go after I've hauled him around for ages looking for Giles's house. So, anyway, I give the guy fifty dollars, which sure as hell better be as much as I owed him, and then have to_ break into_ the stupid house. Sorry about that back window. Who's there when I get there? Nobody. Nobody and a big puddle of Harry's blood in the living room. You should really get that taken care of, Giles, 'cos…eww.

"Anyway, then the other one of you (Buffy gestured to Fred with a vague sweep of her arm) randomly appears in the living room. I nearly killed him. I mean…appearing randomly from nowhere with the Slayer? Not the smartest idea ever. Finally get him to tell me where you people are. First of all, it cost me another forty dollars to get in here.

"Then the tour guides were all 'people are missing', which was actually kind of helpful, seeing as how I know it'd be you guys. Then they started talking about what 'You-Know-Who' would do about it. Granted I wasn't exactly sure who that was, but I figured hey, they're running off on rescue missions, and if people needed the rescuing, there'd be someone to rescue them from. Which I assume is big ugly (This time, she gestured towards Voldemort, wearing a look of supreme distaste). Anyway –."

"Buffy." Giles cut her off sharply. Annoyed that her rant had been interrupted, she turned to meet the watcher's eyes. "This isn't the appropriate time for this."

"Well, Giles, maybe you should've thought of that before trying to tie me to the plane." Buffy snipped, annoyed. "Now. Will somebody _please_ tell me what's going on?" She glared around the room. She blinked in shock at seeing Ron's body in Charlie's arms and the Ron's ghost. In such close proximity, it was obvious that they were the same person. "Oh." She muttered softly, understanding who he was.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Ron questioned her, mouth agape.

Somewhat more quietly than her entrance, Buffy answered him, giving him her name, and noting that she knew who he was in turn. She glanced about the room once more before approaching Willow's side. Surprisingly, Buffy didn't say anything else; she merely stood and took a long look at Lord Voldemort, who was assumedly the "big ugly". He didn't seem amused by her entrance, and stared coldly at the American teenager.

Willow, however, was very confused in the given situation. With Harry's previous reactions, she assumed that he and Voldemort would long since have begun hurling hexes at one another. At the very least, they should've been arguing…or _something_. As it was, they had yet to do much more than glare at one another from across the room. Part of her was shocked at Buffy's arrival; the rest merely glad that she'd _finally_ managed to get there.

Harry was mentally cursing himself. He had known that his wand would be ineffective against Voldemort's. What he hadn't considered, though, was what else he could do against the wizard in his wand's stead. Besides punching him square in the nose, despite how therapeutic it may have been in the long run, it was also slightly absurd. Standing there glaring at him, while somewhat soothing to his riled temper, was beyond useless. And yet he couldn't stop himself, nor could he think of a plan that would change the current situation whatsoever. And thus he stood. Glaring.

It was, somewhat unsurprisingly, Xander who was the first to speak, breaking the silence as he sidled up to his two best friends with his hands buried deeply in his pockets. "As much as I love these uncomfortable silences as much as the next guy, could somebody…you know…_do_ something?"

"A Muggle with a solution that isn't entirely useless. Wonders shall truly never cease." Voldemort hissed, causing most in the room to shiver uncomfortably. Willow not the least among them. She watched with guarded attention as the tall, skeletal wizard before her reached into his robes with one hand, and drew out an obviously very, very old scroll.

Harry glanced at the object with a mix of incredulity and fear. Apparently, Voldemort _had_ spent time thinking of how to overcome his inability to directly cause the boy's downfall. Apparently with a…piece of paper?

A somewhat more knowledgeable Giles stared at the paper in deep concern. There were a great number of things that the paper could represent. None of them pleasant, especially in the given circumstances. Most wizards knew nothing of the sheer number of types of magic that there were in the world. Having been a Watcher, he was supposed to know all of them. Many of them used the written word, and several were based off that practice alone.

The paper could've contained as many things as some of the books that were contained in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts held. He had been in the Restricted Section quite a few times over his years at the school. He was well aware of the dangers some of those books represented. Some that could leave the reader blind, deaf, or mute. Some would burst into unquenchable flames if opened; others spat acid in the face of the reader at a certain point. Some could affect the lives of the reader in irreparable ways. A single sheet of parchment could be more dangerous in as many ways as less.

Voldemort, though, didn't give the parchment to Harry as Giles thought for a moment he would. He held it before him, and started whispering quietly, but with a steady strength to his voice. While he usually seemed to hiss rather than speak normally when he spoke, there was no hint of such theatrics as he recited an incantation. Without the impractical tones on his presently clipped tenor, his voice was disturbingly almost pleasant.

The soft, lilted language that he was chanting, also, might've altered that affect. The scroll in his hands began to glow red after a moment, and he released it. Rather than fall (as gravitywould normallycompel it to do), it merely floated forward several yards before bursting into flames. That happening seemed to startle everyone, and Willow cautiously drew backwards several steps, making sure to drag Xander and Buffy with her. She wasn't aware of what the spell would do, but she wasn't precisely willing to find out first-hand.

After a few minutes, Buffy blanched, because it started forming a very familiar sight, and not one she was precisely willing to handle. Not in the face of everything else she'd been put through in the past few days. Not everything that'd happened to Willow. Sure, she'd been able to put it behind her. It still hurt. And it was still hard. Regardless if she was able to handle the current situation, though, it commenced without her permission.

The paper curled up as the flames consumed it before it became just more than a speck. The bright red speck unfurled itself forming a sight that Buffy never thought that she would have to face again. Part of her knew…she didn't know what part, but she knew what it was. Everyone in the room could tell that it was a portal. But Buffy _knew _that it wasn't just _any_ portal. This was exactly the same as Acathla's portal. It led to the same dimension she'd banished Angel to. Sure, it was another place and another time. Not to mention, it was a bit of another colour, but Buffy knew it wasn't the portal that was important, but where it led.

A great portion of her mind longed to fling herself into that void in hopes that Angel would be on the other side. Rationality told her that it wasn't so, and that going anywhere _near _the portal was a bad idea. Then again, Buffy never put much stock in said rationality, and it was thus Willow's hand on her arm that kept her stilled.

Harry stared in shock at the growing portal, unsure of its purpose or how to make it go away. It hovered midair, and when it gained a diameter of about three feet or so, a powerful vacuum began at the core of the portal. Everyone immediately braced himself or herself, more as a reflex than a conscious assessment of the situation. Buffy stared blankly at the growing danger, every thought frozen half-thought. And the portal continued to grow.

The more the portal grew, the harder it was to get away from its grasp. Harry was the closest to its warp, but Voldemort wasn't much farther away. Willow wondered detachedly what it would take to close the portal. What kind of matter it would have to absorb. Every second it existed, it continued to grow, and if left for too long, it could cause irreversible damage on a worldwide scale.

Ron, surprisingly, was also drawn towards the portal. Without the ability to stop himself by planting himself to the ground, he was slipping far more quickly than anyone else…and he wasn't particularly interested to see if he would merely float _through_ the portal. If the suction he was being pulled with was any indication…he wouldn't just float out through the other side. Ron immediately sought to pull away from the powerful pull. The going was slow, but he finally mentioned to get towards the outside of the room.

If he stopped moving, though, he was slowly dragged back. Working himself in a circle, an idea struck him as he surveyed all the people in the room. Most of them were bracing themselves against the wind, holding down articles of clothing or hair that was whipping dangerously about their faces. He slowly worked himself around until he was next to Charlie. The elder redhead met the ghost of his brother's eyes.

"Charlie. You need to throw me in."

(a/n: I'm _so_ sorry this took so long and is so short on top of it. Everything is hectic, my computer's in the shop, my parents are home (and thus no computer for me) and my brain is somewhere else. So, so sorry. I should have the next chapter up in the next few days.)


	23. Chapter 22

(a/n: if you're looking for a long chapter, go away. Fair warning. This is short.).

Chapter 22 of Unexpected Losses

"Are you insane?" Charlie asked, narrowing his eyes, clutching the precious burden he held closer to himself, as if stopping someone from physically taking it from him.

With a world of affection in his eyes, Ron smiled. "Charlie. I'm dead." The elder winced at the bluntness. "I know it's bloody awful. But I am. And if that thing gets much bigger, you all might join me." He glanced around the room at the sheer number of people within for emphasis. "I have a feeling it's not going to close on its own. You guys can't go in. You just can't…" Ron broke off, and stole a long glance at Hermione, who was staring at the growing portal in horror. He couldn't suppress a second fond grin when she glanced around, her brain obviously churning to find a way to solve this riddle.

"But…Ron…" Charlie answered, unsure of what to say to express the thoughts that wouldn't leave his tortured mind alone.

"Hey, man. I get it." Ron offered one of his lopsided grins, and winked. "Love you, too."

"Are you sure?"

"Charlie. Do it." The smile left Ron's face, expressing that he was, indeed, serious. Frowning deeply. Charlie walked closer to the portal, still clinging to Ron's body. After a few minutes, the suction was starting to pull him in, despite his strength. "_Now_." Ron snapped, and with that Charlie dredged up courage from where he didn't think any lingered. And he let his burden go. Without even dipping down (the strength of the vortex's pull outweighed gravity), Ron's peaceful form was sucked within.

Immediately, the portal contracted, and almost closed. Voldemort screamed in rage, in the same language. Though the voice might've been attractive before, the illusion was lost in his angered tone. The portal paused in its closing and Charlie looked on in horror as it started to grow again, despite the sacrifice he'd just made.

Ron closed his eyes, as if his eyelids would be barrier against the pain that suddenly clutched his heart. He knew how much it had cost his brother to do what he'd done. And now he was going to do something infinitely worse, because it was the only thing that he could think to do. He pulled back again, and circled the room again. He ended up next to Hermione, who tore her mind away from thoughts of a solution to him. She blinked slowly, and tears began coursing down her cheeks.

Ron wasn't particularly surprised that she understood without him having to say a word. Over six years, she, Harry, and he had all managed some form of silent communication, if only from their nightly wanderings. She shook her head in protest, but knew as well as she knew most things that it was pointless. "Hermione," his voice was deceptively quiet, and he could tell that it hurt her. "I love you. Tell everyone, 'kay? Harry and Mum and Dad and the lot. Tell Percy and Gin. 'Kay?"

"I will. I love you, too, Ron." Hermione answered softly, understanding. As much as Ron and Percy fought, she knew that they loved each other. Ron needed this closure before his next action. Which he immediately took, pulling away from her. He ended up close to the portal again. He grinned at Harry, who offered a merely befuddled look in response. Once more, Ron wasn't surprised. Harry was far from stupid, but had a tendency to be blinded in situations like the one they currently suffered. After a moment, it clicked. But it was too late.

It felt a lot like slick, sickening oil. Part of him wanted to pull away and flee, but Ron knew the importance of this action. And he slowly stepped into the braced form of Lord Voldemort. Ron felt dirtied to the core, and wished that he had a readily available bath for his _insides_. Of course, Ron's actions affected Voldemort the same way they affected Lucius, and the wizard froze. Without the concentration on his stance, he slipped forwards a few inches, and then regained his footing for only a moment longer.

But it was too much for him to entirely throw off, and he was too close to the portal, and it was too large. And his own weapon consumed Voldemort, with Ron's ghost still within him. It snapped shut almost immediately after they passed through. And utter silence filled the huge room.

(a/n: what can I say? I'm a hellbitch. I figured the last chapter and this are so short…meh. Again, the next one should be up soon! Only one or two left, actually. Whee!)


	24. Chapter 23

(a/n: a quick note to _Morange_. Actually, your plot of chocolate-smothering might well convince me to continue. I'm allergic to the stuff. Granted, smothering me in it could kill me after a while, so I suggest you don't try unless you _never_ want me to finish. But there you go, your random threat is actually applicable.. :) .Be jubilant!)

Chapter 23 of Unexpected Losses.

The silence in the room was tangible. Most in the room were staring at the point where the portal had shut in disbelief. "He's gone." Someone finally uttered. No one was sure whom he or she meant, Ron or Voldemort. There seemed to be a void in the room. The two groups, Sunnydale residents and the wizards and witches pulled together, but apart.

Wormtail was huddling in a corner, staring unblinkingly at nothing in the middle of the room, to no real consequence. Lucius Malfoy laid on the ground still, curses burning behind his eyes. Of course, he had no way to display that rage, and no one in the room seemed to be paying him much attention in the shock that seemed to have taken over.

Buffy had a separated kind of shock all her own. Because the picture of the portal wouldn't leave her mind, and it was tormenting her just as it had for the previous summer. Was Angel still alive there? A sword through the chest wouldn't normally kill a Master vampire, but she had _killed_ him. She had pushed him through after he'd regained his soul. How could he have survived in a hell dimension? Is that were that poor boy was now? Ron, the name seemed to come to her distantly. Was Ron in hell?

The latter of those questions seemed to burn at everyone in the room, regardless of whether the thinker knew the boy well. Not necessarily "was he in hell" but where was he in general. They'd never heard of a ghost being sent through a portal. With Voldemort gone, there was no way whatsoever to tell where the portal left, and Buffy was in no condition presently to tell them what she thought. And frankly, there wasn't much chance of her being believed. It wasn't a lack of trust between Giles, Xander, Willow, and Buffy. It was a simple matter of the fact that Buffy was still dealing with what had happened, and her mind might've given her the idea, Slayer senses completely aside.

No one spoke for some time, everyone just attempting to absorb what had happened. Buffy remembered when she faced the Master. Despite the prophecy, when she'd killed him, there was a sense of relief so profound; she wasn't sure how to deal with it. She had beaten him. Granted, she'd later gotten to "crush his bones into talcum powder", but it had just been another release of all that fear and anger. She wasn't completely aware of the situation, but she knew one thing well enough.

This wasn't a victory. There was no relief, merely a hollow following of the event, as if someone had taken a deep breath and all of them were waiting still for the exhalation. Willow leaned against Xander, exhausted in every possible facet. Xander easily propped her up as she leaned against him, with him leaning back into her without a second thought, striking a balance between the pair. Giles reached out and rested a hand on Buffy's shoulder, as if making sure that she was still there. The Watcher was bone-weary with the events of the past few days, and he was in no mood to attempt to hide the fact.

Charlie and Fred pulled Hermione and Harry into a four-person crush of a hug. Lupin's mind was still reeling at what he'd seen, and he hovered protectively over the children he thought of as his family. He glanced over at Giles, and they shared an uncomfortable glare. Some things just made a fight – no matter the source – seem incredibly trivial, and if what they'd gone through didn't count, then there was nothing that could.

Buffy carefully regarded the inhabitants of the room. Part of her wanted to talk to Giles about the chances of the portal and the dimension beyond. She'd never been the queen of tact (though Cordelia was easily worse), but she knew enough about losing people that it wouldn't be wise to suggest that Ron had been sucked into a Hell dimension. Even if he _was _a ghost.

After a few moments of the same silence, Willow pulled away from Xander with a brief hug. Quietly, she approached the other group. After noticing her standing there, all four seemed to regard her quietly, but seriously. Without the pretense of even a fake smile, Willow insinuated herself into Harry's somewhat shocked arms. After a moment, he hugged her as fiercely as she hugged him.

Willow was, by nature, not a solitary person. She wasn't often surrounded by a lot of people, and when she was, she was more uncomfortable than not. But she had always had a few people around her to ground herself to. And over the past while, Harry had been that person. They'd discussed their friends at great length. In general, they had a lot in common, and they had bonded quite quickly. At the moment, sharing this pain was comforting. Willow and Harry had compared their friends to an extent. There were a lot of similarities between Xander and Ron, and they'd delighted in sharing them.

Now, though, those similarities seemed to be attacking Willow. She could barely keep the thoughts of how she would feel in Harry's place away, and part of her didn't think it was very fair of her to try. Giles eventually walked up to her, and rested a hand on her shoulder. The two teenagers pulled apart from one another. Before, they might've blushed at their apparent closeness. But with the situation at hand, their capacity of being embarrassed had been destroyed, and didn't seem very important at all in retrospect.

"We need to get out of here." Giles reported quietly. Willow nodded in agreement and she grabbed Harry's hand without a second thought before she attentively followed the man who was like a father to her. He, with a rather disgruntled look, picked up a still-bound Lucius Malfoy, and slung the man over his shoulder before he continued walking, paying no respect to him whatsoever. Without being asked to, Willow cast the invisibility spell on he and Wormtail (who followed wordlessly, and still blank-eyed). Giles had to adjust his burden for a few minutes so he wouldn't look odd, but managed to seem somewhat normal.

Getting out of the castle was ridiculously easy after the trouble they went through to get in. They were all standing wordlessly together as they boarded a double-decker bus on their way back to the Ministry. When they finally arrived, Lupin led them down to the Auror's department. Giles dumped Lucius Malfoy over without so much as a pause or thought, and Wormtail was handed over, still staring vacantly. The rather pretty woman they spoke to, who had dark sable hair and pretty blue eyes in a heart-shaped face introduced herself as Nymphadora Tonks.

The woman asked several questions in quiet tones about what had happened. With eyes as large as saucers after it, she had left the front room and returned with several people within minutes. Among them was a tall, bald black man, a somewhat shorter, very badly scarred man (who's blue eye swung around in a state that left Willow feeling somewhat nauseous), and a very elderly old man, if his beard was any indication. There was a feeling of power around the elder man that left Willow feeling somewhat more than awed.

"Rupert. It's been some time." The man said kindly to Giles, who seemed a little flustered by the attention.

"Quite, Professor." Giles answered softly.

"I understand your charge has been at the center of some of this madness?" He asked, glancing at the three teenagers with Giles, wondering which of them it was. Willow stepped forward, still trying to shut off the response to run from this very powerful man. There was a sense of grandfatherly-ness about him, but behind that was someone as solid as tempered steel, and she knew that she had caused a number of problems recently. "What's your name, Miss?"

"I'm Willow. Rosenberg." She finished her name as an afterthought.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore." He answered. "I understand that Tom was, in part, after you?"

"Tom?" Willow asked with her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Voldemort's real name is Tom Riddle." Harry reported. "Professor. There was a portal…"

"I know." Dumbledore answered simply. "Ms. Tonks and myself met each other halfway here. The energy from that portal was probably felt for a great distance. When I felt it disappear, I assumed that this is where you would head. I'm aware of what happened to Ronald. I'm very sorry."

"He was a ghost." Harry answered. For the first time, Dumbledore seemed shocked. "He was the one who closed the portal. First he made Charlie throw his body in. Then he went _into_ Voldemort and they went through. Is there any way to know where it went to?"

"I'm afraid the possibilities of where he went are infinite." Dumbledore replied regretfully.

The attention of everyone in the room was drawn to the front door of the room as it burst open. Willow recognized Mr. Fudge as he entered, glowering darkly at everyone. "_You_." He spat acidly at Harry, who glared right back at the man. "I _knew_ that you had something to do with all this madness. _Who_ allowed you into this…" He stopped ranting as he glanced about the room. "This is a branch of the Ministry of Magic. This is not some…_party_ for delinquents."

"Oh. Can I hurt him?" Buffy asked Giles brightly. The Minister blanched angrily at the slip of a girl that _dare_ mock him.

"Do you think that you're _funny_? Do you have _any _idea who I am?"

"Snyder Junior." Buffy answered, looking at Giles again. The librarian, despite (or perhaps because of) the heaviness of the current situation, had to smother a laugh into a cough.

"No. He's not on _that _high of a scale." Willow answered innocently. Wordlessly, the Minister turned on her, surprisingly daring to brandish his wand at the teenager. Easily, Harry and Giles both stepped protectively in front of her, and Buffy rushed at the man, disarming him without effort. Xander tsked the Minister and his stupid attempt at an attack on his best friend.

"Don't just stand there." The Minister shrieked. "_Arrest_ them."

"On what grounds, sir? You pulled your wand on an unarmed _Muggle_ and they were merely defending their friend." Tonks answered innocently, giving him the most serious look that she could muster. "None of them have attempted to hurt you, and besides, you attacked first. Technically, you're the one breaking code here."

"You are _fired_." The Minister hissed. Tonks narrowed her eyes darkly at him.

"I'm afraid that you don't have the right to do that, Cornelius." Albus Dumbledore said mildly, but a twinkle formed in his blue eyes. "Because Ms. Tonks is following procedure. Besides, the only one she could _possibly _detain is Ms. Summers, the young lady with your wand in hand. Unfortunately for you, sir, our laws have no grounds to cover the Slayer."

"The…the _Slayer_?" Fudge gaped in disbelief.

"I see you've heard of me?" Buffy addressed Dumbledore respectfully.

"Oh, yes, Ms. Summers. The Council and the Ministry have long debated the standing of the Slayer in our world. I'm quite honored to meet you, though. Seeing as how Slayers and wizards seldom meet. Even a wizard such as myself!" He chuckled lightly at that last, as if it was a joke only he understood.

"I'd like to speak with you, young lady." The badly scarred man spoke, both eyes focused unblinkingly at the girl. "I have a feeling that there is much that we could discuss."

"Alastor, this is not the time." Albus chided the man lightly.

"No, but this is an opportunity I shall not waste." The man nodded slightly, one eye focused on Dumbledore, and the other still on Buffy. If she was disturbed by that development, she didn't mention anything.

A woman burst into the room just as the Minister had a few minutes before, but this time not in anger. She, in fact, glared at the man before looking towards Dumbledore. "He was supposed to get _help_." She remarked in regards to the man. "There's something loose downstairs. I don't know how it got in, but it's attacking people."

"What is it?"

"That's what we'd like to know."

(a/n: that's it for this chapter. Hope that you liked it. Should be two more!)


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter 24 of Unexpected Losses

Willow frowned. She was in the room with Buffy, Xander, Hermione, Lupin, Giles, "Mad-Eye" and the black man whose name was apparently Shacklebolt. Sure, she wasn't the same type of witch that they were, but she had at least proven herself capable in the past few days. Luckily for her, no one seemed to be paying overmuch attention to her. Mad-Eye and Buffy were talking quietly, the young girl interested despite herself in what he had to say.

Shacklebolt was questioning Xander about helping out with the aide of neither magic nor any apparent special abilities. Hermione, still somewhat in a state of shock, stayed near Xander. Her normally inquisitive nature had been somewhat smothered in the events of the day, but she wasn't so far gone as to resist asking at least a few questions. Lupin and Giles had started and broken off several conversations, both of them desperate to find equal footing. It ended up with both of them talking about their respective charges.

Willow, wondering how she had changed so much in only a few months, snuck off. She'd certainly been getting almost _too_ much practice with her invisibility spell lately. It was easy to find where all the distress was sourced. The more agitated people were along the way, the closer she got. She was lead deeper into the Ministry and had seemed to have been walking for quite some time by the time she saw someone she recognized.

It was the woman who sought out help in the Auror's department. Willow easily slipped past her and through another hallway. After a few more minutes of walking, there was no one there whatsoever. While that could've been an indication that she'd turned the wrong way somewhere down the line, she was pretty sure that it was because she'd gone in the _right_ direction, and whatever was attacking people was nearby.

A deep growl sounded echoed around her, and she continued walking. Still invisible, a bit of courage stuck with her even when, normally, she would've turned back to seek safety. She continued slowly inching her way along until she heard a familiar voice shout. She ran forward, then, and through a few more empty offices. Finding herself in a large room that had many doors leaving, and almost nothing within, Willow paused, and lifted the spell.

On the far side of the room, in shadows, it lurked. Growling once more, it ran from one side of the room to the other, passing Willow on the way. Despite the warning bells it had set off, it didn't attack her directly, but merely ran past. It was humanoid, but seemed to move on all fours rather than stand as any person usually would. Knowing that she was probably being an idiot, she followed it.

"Willow!" Harry called, and the redheaded girl was tackled over as the creature growled again and flung past the area she'd been a moment before. Harry glared down at her, having had to nearly attack her to get her out of harm's way. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Good. Idiot." He replied sternly. "He could've killed you."

"It's a person, then?" Willow replied, ignoring the rebuke for the moment. Especially seeing as how she was internally giving herself the same comments. Harry nodded tersely, and glanced over his shoulder once more as the creature hid in the far corner of the room. He slowly climbed off of Willow and helped her up.

"We'd stun him, but he won't stay still long enough to do it." Harry answered. As if to prove him right, it crawled along the far wall. "He keeps to the shadows, but he seems perfectly normal. Besides the attacking people bit."

Willow kept her eyes on the creature, and gently took a few steps forward. "I'm assuming that everyone's been after him since they found out that he was here?" Willow asked.

"Yes." Harry answered. "Maybe he's getting tired." He brightened a bit at the concept.

"Maybe he thinks you're all trying to kill him." Willow countered softly. She made a gentle shushing sound as she approached the lowly growling form in the corner. Harry seemed to want to stop her, but a glare silenced him. Once Willow was close enough to see the creature properly, she paused and backpedaled several feet. Scrambling to her feet, she pulled Harry back a few feet.

It stopped growling though, and sniffed loudly the area Willow had just vacated. "A-Angel?" She asked quietly, eyes wide in fear. True to her word, the vampire was crouched on the floor, face twisted into a vampiric visage. He sniffed again, before grunting in an animalistic manner. "Angel, is that _you_?"

"Little." The vampire croaked lowly in what seemed to be very broken English. Willow blinked. Angel had called her "little one" for some time. It was odd to hear it in his present condition. It was odd that he recognized her. Did he get his soul back despite Buffy stabbing him? Did the spell transverse _dimensions_? Did Buffy _know_? Worse…had it happened _before_ she stabbed him? If so, her hostilities regarding what had happened were far more understandable.

"Who is this, Willow?" Harry asked. Angel growled loudly at him, prowling nearer to him on all fours.

Immediately, Harry backed up, pulling on Willow's arm. The vampire launched himself at Harry, pinning the teenager underneath a very naked vampire. "Angel!" Willow gasped, grabbing the vampire about the shoulders and pulling. After a moment, he backed off, but not before baring his teeth at Harry and growling lowly once more.

"Hurt." Angel snarled quietly.

"Harry. Remember when I said I resouled a vampire?" Willow asked innocently. Harry nodded. "Meet Angel." She turned to the vampire, who didn't seem to have any outstanding urge to harm her, but oddly enough defend her from Harry, who he didn't trust whatsoever. "Angel. What happened? What's _wrong_?"

"Not real." Angel answered, his vampiric mask slipping into smooth features. "You're not real."

"Angel. You're back! How…how are you back? Buffy stabbed you. And you went through Acathla's portal…" Willow drifted off at the attention Angel gave her at his lover's name. "Remember Buffy?" She asked.

"I…I _can't_." Angel objected, backing away several more feet, shaking his head as if to clear it. His gaze finally landed on Willow, recognition alit them. "I tried to…Little One." He said softly.

"It wasn't you." Willow answered, understanding his unspoken apology. Angelus had tried to kill her. Had killed Jenny Calendar. She was sympathetic that he had to deal with that guilt on his own. In a hell dimension, no less. Had she taken a moment to realize what was going on, she probably would panic. Which was exactly why she _wasn't _thinking, and refused to stop to. "It was Angelus."

"I am Angelus." Angel answered, despite it not being the complete truth.

"Well. You're not trying to tear out my throat, so I'm going to disagree with you." Willow answered softly, a tone of amusement lacing her voice, despite the rather serious feeling she was attempting to communicate.

Harry seemed extremely confused with the given situation. Every instinct told him to grab Willow and get her _away_ from the demon. But there she was, talking to the perfectly naked vampire, who seemed as if he was somehow broken. And talking about him trying to kill her, which was something _else_ that Harry just didn't understand.

"You…you should be dead. If you're alive, you're dead." Angel said at Willow's last comment, and stared at her as if seeing her for the first time all over again. His comment would've been nonsensical if she hadn't been somewhat prepared for it.

"Angel, how long have you been gone?"

"I…I almost forgot…" Angel drifted off. Willow understood. He almost forgot her. Forgot about everything but the hell he was going to suck the world into when he didn't have his soul. "Buffy…where is she? Is she okay?" This last seemed to bring him entirely to reality. "Where's Buffy?"

"She's fine. She's here. Do you want me to get her, Angel?" Willow asked softly.

"Don't leave. If you leave…if you leave. Everything will go with you." Angel replied softly. Willow nodded blindly, unsure of how someone like Angel could be so broken. He had been in another dimension. In hell. After just regaining his soul. After trying to kill her and Buffy and killing Ms. Calendar. Willow was aware that in a portal time could've been extremely different. It had been months since Angel had been banished. It could've been thousands of years where he went. Unlikely that it was that long, but certainly long enough to reduce Angel to act more like a whipped puppy than the Master vampire he truly was.

Not even the smallest part of her wanted to abandon him.

"Get away from that demon!" Someone demanded from one of the doorways. An Auror, Willow guessed (as they seemed to be some kind of magic police), but not one that she knew.

"He's not a demon." Willow answered shortly. "Harry? Can you go get Buffy, Giles, and Xander? Please?"

"Will he hurt you?" Harry asked.

"I won't hurt Willow." Angel answered, offended by the idea. "I'm not--."

"Just _go_, Harry." Willow answered. "And hurry." In wordless acceptance, the Boy-Who-Lived fled the room, running quickly. Obviously, he didn't stop running once he'd left the room because it was scarcely ten very uncomfortable minutes before he returned, this time with Buffy on his heels. It took a few moments more for Xander and Giles to arrive.

"Buffy!" Angel said aloud in a wondering tone at the appearance of the blonde Slayer. "Giles. Xander."

"Deadboy." Xander replied, choosing not to comment on Angel's sudden case of nudity. Expecting at least a glare for his comment, Xander was puzzled when he received a smile bordering on blissful at the comment.

"Angel. I assume that it is indeed you?" Giles asked coldly, not so welcoming as Xander was (given that the welcoming was in his own manner).

"Yes." Angel answered sorrowfully. His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "How did I get here?"

"Something we'd _all_ like to know." Tonks asked. "And why you were attacking people."

"Attacking people?" Buffy asked Angel, barely past the confusion that assaulted her at seeing him.

"I thought they were trying to kill me." Angel answered, a touch embarrassed. "After more than three hundred years of it…well. I'm sorry. Was anyone hurt?"

"Three hundred years?" Giles questioned, despite any reservations he might've (and truly) had.

"In Acathla's portal time must run differently. I barely remembered anything about this place. Not after so long. Holding onto the memory was more painful than the relief it could offer. I thought all of you would be dead." Angel answered softly. Vampires tended to have excellent memories. They didn't fade with age, but he had been able to sort of turn _off_ the memories that would resurface at every given opportunity. After sixty years or so, he demanded that they were, and with twenty or so more years of practice, it worked quite efficiently.

"You were through a portal?" Harry asked, his interest piqued.

Angel blinked, and then looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. "Yes," he answered cautiously.

"Do you think…" Harry asked Willow.

"What?" Angel asked, confused.

"There was…a portal. Someone went through it. Don't know where it led to." Buffy replied shortly. "Angel, is that really you?"

"Buffy." Angel answered her softly. "I'm so sorry." He wasn't talking about someone going through the portal.

"How? I mean…what…you just _came back_ or something? Got bored?" She replied in a hurt voice, not caring at all who was witness to her emotions.

"I was pulled out." Angel answered wonderingly. "I mean. At first I thought it was another of their tricks. But then…Willow was here. They'd never…they couldn't know. A while ago. I told someone. We talked about everything. Everyone. I was scared he told. Because he left. After we talked. He went through a hole."

"Angel, you aren't making sense." Buffy interrupted.

"I met someone there." Angel attempted to explain again. "He came and went a few times. He was human though. But when he went through a hole, he went somewhere else. But he didn't age. Wherever he went…time must have been slower. At least as slow as it is here. He and I spoke often. But then he didn't come back anymore. I couldn't follow him. They would've followed."

"Who would've followed you, Angel?" Willow asked, somewhat afraid of the answer.

"The demons. They would've killed him. I couldn't…" Angel drifted off, closing his eyes against the pain that confronted him. "He was the closest thing I had to a friend in there."

"Who was he?" Buffy asked.

"A star." Angel shrugged. Of course, most of the inhabitants of the room immediately assumed that he was either insane or delirious (if not both). He was rambling ineffectually, and didn't seem to speak to any of them in particular. Of course, Buffy held his attention the strongest. During breaks of his rather skittish speech, he'd merely stare at her as if expecting her to disappear into thin air.

"You made friends with a star?" Tonks spoke up doubtfully.

"He wasn't a star." Angel snapped irritably. "I don't…" He seemed embarrassed. "I don't remember his name. But he was a star. Dog star." He muttered that last under his breath. But loudly enough.

"Sirius?" Harry asked, feeling altogether like he'd been punched in the gut.

Angel shrugged. "I don't remember."

"Hey. Has anyone heard of something called the Powers That Be?" An eerily familiar voice questioned from yet another of the doorways. Languidly leaning against the door was an impossibility.

(a/n: that's it for this chapter. I'm sorry it was so dialogue-heavy. Hope everyone enjoyed anyway. The next one should be the last.)


	26. Chapter 25

(a/n: I just wanted to make a comment to _Pamie884_. You should read my author's notes! As previously stated this is the very last chapter of Unexpected Losses.)

Chapter 25 of Unexpected Losses

"I can't take much more of this." Giles reported, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward of an impending headache. He glanced over at the desk where his orderly world of sense and logic had dissolved like butter in acid.

"You won't have to." He chuckled. "Well…of course you'll still have to face some stuff. But not all about this lot anyway. And not in the too-near future." He winked at Giles. "I _can_ see these things, you know." The group was currently located in the Auror's office. Angel had been finally clothed in an extra robe, and was standing off to the side with Buffy. Giles, of course, kept an eye on her, but his attention was split. Most of the Auror's were standing around, mostly confused.

Dumbledore was in a right state, making demands and asking questions to nearly everyone involved. Willow was currently attempting to wake Hermione, who had decidedly fainted and didn't seem to be coming to, despite the _Ennerviate_ spell that had already been cast on her. Lupin and Tonks were talking quietly. Harry, Charlie, and Xander, though, were holding a conversation with, of course, a perfectly healthy, perfectly unharmed, and perfectly _alive _Ronald Arthur Weasley.

"So…lemme get this straight." Xander began again. "You died for the cause of good and stuff. And now some unnamed and previously unheard of 'Powers That Be' have brought you back to be Angel's Lassie?"

"Lassie?" Ron asked, confused.

"A dog. On a television show. It tells people when Timmy's all down the well." Willow explained, glancing down at Hermione, who seemed to have transferred from her faint into sleep. "Announcing danger and all that good stuff."

Ron grinned at the explanation. "Well, they said that I can finish school first, but then I'm supposed to go to America. LA." Ron answered thoughtfully. "Never been across the Pond before. Should be right fun."

"Giles, are these people for real?" Buffy asked her Watcher. "These…Power people?"

"Well, gathering the fact that Angel was pulled from another dimension, and the fact that we all knew that Mr. Weasley was indeed dead, and is now alive…I have no reason to suspect that they aren't real. Or that they aren't here for precisely the reasons they claim to be."

"Well, then why did they wait for now? Why didn't they get Angel back before?" Buffy answered, sounding hurt.

"I can answer that one." Willow admitted. "Or, at least, I have a theory." Everyone turned his or her attention to the redhead, who blushed. "Y'see…Ron's body and Voldemort both went through the portal, right?" Those who were there at the time nodded in agreement to the universal assessment. "Well, It could've been a balance."

"What do you mean by that, Will?" Buffy asked.

"It's like…okay. Remember how Ron was all hurt?" Once more, nods were her silent response. "Well, I don't think Ron's in the same body he was in before. It's like…a whole new Ron, but in a literal sense. Ron's body and Voldemort's went into the portal. Like pretend they went into a full tub. An equal displacement of water would fall out. Angel's that water."

"Angel's water?" Buffy asked, puzzled.

"Pretend it's a scale. You add Ron and You-Know-Who, and the scale is heavier on one side. You have to add Angel on the other side to make it even again." Hermione said, sitting up, holding her aching head with a hand. "Although, really, that's not even, is it?"

"Hermione!" Ron called and ran over to embrace his girlfriend. She clung back onto him with fervor that would've been surprising had the teen not been dead just a short while before. "Are you alright?"

"Must be Ron," Hermione smiled wanly. "Still asking stupid questions."

"Hey!" Ron objected, but was grinning wildly, as he seemed to have been since he'd arrived. It wasn't every day that everyone got to experience death and well…re-life. Granted, Angel was technically a vampire, so he got to, but it was a bit different. Ron wasn't the undead. He was exactly the same as he had been before. With a new talent. The Powers That Be explained everything to him. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He wasn't supposed to die.

They offered him the option. Become a seer for someone on the side of good, or remain as a ghost in the Hell dimension. Granted, it wasn't much of a choice. Especially as he found out that he was allowed to finish school first, and then that Hermione was permitted to go to LA with him afterwards. Not that he could've stopped her, but having the permission from beings that were powerful enough to bring you back from the dead could seem pretty comforting.

They'd taken a certain glee in explaining that if he chose life and then didn't help the aforementioned "Angel", they would take delight in making him dead again. Far more painfully than Voldemort could've managed. That was actually a fairly convincing argument. As for Angel's seer, there were a few other options beside him if he said no. Among them an Irish half-demon named Doyle and an American girl named Cordelia.

Ron had taken an almost abstract pleasure in knowing that he could probably ace Divination now without having to make up the most horrid things that he could come up with. If the other options had taken the Power to see, it actually would've harmed them. Ron, having been a wizard and (somewhat) trained in the art of Divination, he would be well prepared to take and interpret the visions he would receive. In fact, with a bit more preparation, he would be able to _instigate_ the visions, rather than have them randomly occur. The only thing he was worried about was working well with Angel.

Even if they had their problems, Ron was sure that the "greater good" would assure that they did their part. It helped to see that Angel was becoming calmer and more in-control of himself. He was talking to Buffy, Harry, and Willow, now. The girl was anxious to see that he was okay, and Angel wanted to apologize for attacking the teenager. Part of Ron wanted to tease his best friend, seeing that he was holding Willow's hand without seeming to notice it. But then, with everything they'd all been through in the past few days, it would just seem kind of cruel.

Dating would be good for Harry, anyway. It had been hard on the "Golden Trio" when Ron and Hermione had begun dating. Not that the tension between the two _before_ they dated wasn't distracting or anything. Harry had gone out of his way to make sure that they had time to themselves enough, but they'd always felt a little bit guilty for leaving him out. Sure, they were _dating, _but that didn't immediately mean poor Harry had to be on his own. Actually, he'd begun spending more time with Neville and the rest of the DA, which seemed to be good for all parties.

"Well, I have a question." Willow smiled shyly at Ron. "What happened to Voldemort?"

Taking on a very grave face, Ron managed to go almost three seconds without laughing. "I was waiting for someone to ask about that. It seems that in the other side there were demons. Very hungry demons." Ron's smile became somewhat predatory at that. "Well, let's just say that their condition has been…alleviated."

"…Voldemort got _eaten_?" Dumbledore asked, dumbstruck.

"Yep." Ron snickered. "Not that I understand why the bloody hell three of 'em would go at such a bony guy, though. But…there you go."

"Well…that seems to just about round everything up." Giles commented.

"Not quite," Ron answered, unable to stop himself from teasing Harry…just a little. "When's Harry gonna snog his girl?"

Immediately, the raven-haired Boy-Who-Lived glared evilly at Ron, blushing fire-engine red. Willow, though, managed to cover an impish smile with a thoughtful look. Harry, in his glaring, didn't notice that, but when he ended up with a lipful of Willow Rosenberg, it was hard to continue any form of anger.

Xander grinned at that. "I think Mr. Potter and I need to have a conversation about a shovel." Willow gave him a "you-wouldn't-dare" look, and Harry looked very, very puzzled. Xander approached Harry and slung an arm over his shoulders and pulled him away from Willow. "We'll be right back."

Willow, face burning with embarrassment, hid in her hands.

Ron was waiting for Hermione to remember the problem about the unequal displacement. The Powers-That-Be had done something else for Ron. And sooner or later she would think of the answer. Hermione was very bright, and after Angel commenting about his Dog-Star friend…she would remember Sirius, who was currently in another department with a very much alive Wormtail. He would be gaining his freedom, given a well-earned apology on behalf of the Ministry, and would be attaining guardianship of one Harry James Potter.

Fudge, of course, wouldn't be reelected for Minister; there was no question about that. It would be Kingsley Shacklebolt who would be granted the position. He was good with people and open-minded, finding answers for problems that shouldn't exist in the first place. Trusted by Dumbledore, a natural leader, and a long-time successful Auror, he was a natural choice.

Lucius Malfoy would be sent to Azkaban, which would no longer be guarded by the untrustworthy Demetors. Tonks and Remus Lupin were secretly pursuing a relationship that would be openly announced in short order. That would be followed by the announcement of what would be one of the first born-werewolves in many decades.

Ron was already planning on asking Hermione to marry him after their seventh year, and knew that she would go with him to LA. Once there, Xander and his girlfriend Cordelia, who would never receive the gift of Sight, would join them. Harry and Willow would attend UC Sunnydale together with Buffy and Faith, who - having never been in the position of killing a man – would never stray from the side of light.

After a while, Buffy would leave the Hellmouth to Faith's eventually more mature and capable hands. Wesley would stay with her, and eventually would outgrow his pretentious and stuffy attitudes. The Watcher and his Slayer would begin a doomed-to-fail relationship that would never actually fail permanently, despite all signs that it would never work. Buffy would go to LA to help Angel, and surprisingly, they would find a way around the curse that tormented both lovers. That escape, of course, would come from the combined minds of Willow, Hermione, and a girl named Tara, all three of whom would quickly become close friends. Tara would surprisingly end up dating another fiery redhead in the form of one Ginny Weasley.

Dawn Summers would come, but thanks to Ron's Sight, and thanks to the alliances that the Slayers and Wizards had formed, Glory would never find out she was the key. Nor would Buffy Summers die in attempts to save her sister. Surprisingly, the demise of the God would come about by a frustratingly normal death (for Sunnydale, anyway). Ben would be killed by a regular vampire walking to the Hospital for a shift of work.

Willow would become an extremely powerful witch, as she was always destined to become. She would never be completely taken by darkness, though, and thus would not gain the complete power she might've otherwise attained. Then again, she would be spared that sacrifice. It was always a risk that magic could take her over, but Harry grounded her, and was unafraid to tell her when she'd gone too deeply into trouble. It helped that Ron knew what the alternative of her listening to Harry was, and told her. The threat of losing oneself completely was one that Willow couldn't face, and thus she worked with Dumbledore and a Coven of Wiccans before she found herself too far gone.

Ron would never be the same as he'd been just so much as a week before. Seeing death, despite his light attitude about the situation, changed him, and changed him on the deepest levels. Achieving a surprising maturity, and with an affinity for understanding people and the reasons for their actions, he and Angel would work well together. Buffy, Willow, Harry, Xander, Cordelia, and Hermione would eventually join them in LA. Faith and Wesley would stay in Sunnydale together.

They would all return to Sunnydale once in a while. It was where everything began, and it was where the end would also begin.

It would never be easy. They were fighters on the side of light attempting to eradicate the world of darkness and evil. It was an impossible quest, and they would never truly succeed. People would die, people they loved, and there would be insurmountable obstacles on their way. They would shed tears and blood alike in their quest to bring the world to a brighter place. But someday, to even the smallest degree, they would all have happier endings than they ever could've had on their own. They would all be okay someday.

Ron could see it.

(a/n: That's it. The end of the journey. I hope that you liked it, and I hope that everything was explained and that all of you enjoyed it. Never have I so enjoyed a story. Never has a story driven me so far from the plot I designed. It was fun, and it was the biggest headache I've ever had in my life. It brought me to tears more than once. I wouldn't trade a second of it. Thanks for being here with me and for me. This last chapter is dedicated to everyone who reviewed, and to everyone who read but didn't review. It's dedicated to everyone who had a word of encouragement to keep me going, and to a few of you who told me it was okay to give up for a while. There is a 99.99999999 chance that there will _not_ be a sequel, but I'm not so close-minded to say never. I don't believe in "never". Anyway, please tell me what you think? Love to all. Sloane Miette.)


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